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GIFT
FROM THE SEA
The
old woman stood on the beach at dawn and looked both ways as
if to decide which was the better path. Where would she find
the best seashells this morning? Where would there be less jellyfish?
An observer high up on a balcony of the new condominium watched
the woman but could not guess what her life was really like.
Mildred was lost and lonely. She was sixty-eight years old and
had been alone for nine years since her Albert had died of a
stroke. She had grown children but they lived far away and were
busy with young families of their own. They never once imagined
the periods of despair and desolation this old lady felt. So
many days and nights passed with nothing to show for her living
there except a few more seashells. Mildred had been awake while
it was still dark. She woke up suffering because of the unbearable
pain in her right knee and ankle. "Arthritis" the doctor had
said many years before. "It's just arthritis and there isn't
much anyone can do about it". One year later she discovered
she was also diabetic and since that day she had been sticking
needles into the soft spots in her body to keep the balance
of sugar regulated. She had been quite overweight when that
diagnosis was made but had lost a few pounds as she aged and
was now just solidly plump. Her old skin remembered its former
self though. It sagged and bagged at her knees, her bottom and
her upper arms. "It doesn't matter", she thought. " It doesn't
matter that I am old and unbecoming. The world is full of beauty
and today I will look and find it." She gazed once more to the
right where the pier stood somber and dark in the distance and
chose the other way. Mildred walked to the left, her feet squishing
the sand and waves lapping at her ankles. She had the determination
of a hunter. The watcher on the balcony noticed that she seemed
to have a strength of purpose on this early morning walk and
he admired her determination. He noticed her legs and even at
this distance, he could see the fragile network of varicose
veins and stretch marks punctuated with countless age spots.
They reminded him of the intricate designs frosts makes on a
window pane in winter. Mildred was a member of the Flamingo
Shell Club. Each Monday they would meet to show off the best
shells they had gathered on the beach that week. Mildred had
not found anything significant for months and was feeling somewhat
desperate to make a good find today. She bent and captured shells
as the waves tossed them in the surf, examined them closely
and threw each one back into the sea. One was chipped, another
worn on the points from the rolling waves and sand. Some looked
just right, but upon closer examination, she discovered one
imperfect shell after another. "Like me," she thought, "they're
just like me - worn with the ravages of time - flawed and broken".
Suddenly, Mildred's attention was captured by something white
floating on the surface just yards from the shore. It was quite
big and Mildred felt excited. Only the paper nautilus shell
floats up on the surface of the sea. Could it be? Seldom had
anyone found this unique shell on this beach although Mildred
did remember years ago that Sandy Henderson had brought a small
one to the shell club claiming to have found it on the shore.
Mildred did not believe him. No one else in the club believed
him either. She was pretty certain he had purchased it up on
the interstate at the souvenir shop where tourists stopped to
buy oranges and grapefruit on their way north. She froze and
waited expectantly for the white object to be pushed closer
by the waves. The ocean teased her as it carried the prize in
and then out again. It was very close. The next wave was huge
and she was surprised by the swirling force around her feet.
The spray tasted salty in her mouth. The shell had been pushed
right past her and had landed without incident up on the soft
sand. Mildred hurried out of the water and bent down to examine
the wondrous piece. She did not dare pick it up. She could not
bear to turn it over and find some creature had torn a hole
in the other side. It looked so white and beautiful-a precious
object...this gift from the sea. She could resist no longer.
She caressed the shell as she gently turned it over in the flat
palm of her left hand. Perfection! This shell was perfection
and Mildred could already imagine the stir it would cause on
Monday night. She wouldn't tell a soul! Well, maybe Ruth who
lived next door. She never went to shell club and she was one
who could keep a secret. Mildred was overcome with the enjoyment
of her fantastic find and as she stood looking out to sea, she
imagined all the beauty that lived therein. Like a child, suddenly
she placed the delicate shell up to her ear. She listened intently.
As she listened her eyes grew wide and her face flushed. She
thought she heard something sweet above the ocean's deep refrain.
She sat down hard on the sand and listened once more. The voice
spoke to her again. "Dear Mildred, keep this perfectly lovely
shell but know that perfection is not the goal. See the beauty
in everything...in the broken fragments of shell, in the tropical
storm, in the damaged coral, even in the small old man sitting
there in the fishing boat". Mildred gasped and looked straight
out to the boat where her eyes connected with those of an old
fisherman. She did see his perfect beauty and she smiled broadly.
He was unprepared for her dazzling smile although he had been
observing Mildred for some time. He liked her courage as she
braved the waves in search of shells. He smiled and waved. Mildred
was stunned and a memory of some past sermon flashed across
her mind. "What you give out comes back to you". Well, certainly
that was true. "I smiled, and he smiled right back"! She was
brought out of her day dream by a voice calling over the wind
and the water. The old man shouted, "Do you want to ride on
my boat?...Come float across the sea with me"! Mildred felt
like a sleepwalker as she moved cautiously into the depth of
the ocean toward the boat. She held her prize up high careful
that it didn't drop back into the blue water and disappear.
She wondered briefly if at 68 she could manage to climb into
a boat without incident. In a matter of minutes she found herself
sitting in the bow, the subject of intense scrutiny from the
sun aged and wrinkled captain. She felt lost for words. Silently,
she offered the shell to the old man who copied the listening
ritual he had observed earlier on the beach. He placed the shell
carefully against his good ear. It was obvious to him that this
beautiful shell was highly prized by the woman and it must not
be broken. As he held it close to his ear, he too heard the
voice in the shell. This time, it said, "Now is the time. This
is the one"! Mildred never did make it to shell club on Monday
night. She treasured the memory of the perfect shell and reality
of a perfect love that brought two lonely and somewhat imperfect
people together. Where is the shell now? Mildred gave the precious
object to her friend, Ruthie and as they parted she whispered,
"Listen to this shell, Ruth. There is an angel inside".
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