I have the good fortune to be married to a woman who understand the intrinsic value of things. She sees the beauty and wonder that God scatters upon the path in front of her, and takes the time to stop and enjoy it, living so much more in the moment than me. One of her favorite pastimes is looking for sea glass and shells when we’re walking on the beach. To her, a piece of polished sea glass is a precious stone. Precious is, after all, in the eye of the beholder. Consequently, we have quite a collection of various detritus from a host of favorite shorelines. That’s just fine with me, because she gets more joy from a rare and perfect piece of sea glass than many other people seem to derive from diamonds or emeralds. I’m not saying that she doesn’t deserve those as well, yet her perspective provides a commentary on how we assign value to the other things in our lives. The richest people aren’t necessarily the ones with the biggest jewels. Rather, they are the ones with beautiful memories and various keepsakes that remind them of those memories. That’s what sea glass is to us. Not so much precious stones as touch stones. This also begs the question of what we fill our lives with … and why? In the meantime, I’ll keep hauling home the pockets full of sandy treasure that my beloved finds joy in collecting. After all, it’s not just about the glass. I think she’s actually collecting joy … and that is a treasure indeed.
Wherever the water kisses
The sand, you’ll find her there
Wandering happily down the shore
Wet feet and windblown hair
Oblivious to tide and time
As the lazy hours pass
She scours the shore for shiny stones
And odd pieces of sea glass
Tucking the treasures in her pocket
Whenever they appear
And wandering down the sunlit shore
As she has throughout the years
So we have a vast collection
Of such trinkets from the shore
Countless, worthless, priceless treasures
That she collects and she adores
And why not, we know so many folks
Who pay a fortune for the things
That they think will make them happy
Yet no greater pleasure bring
Perhaps the wisest of us all
Is she who wanders happily
And finds her joy in simple treasures
From the Great Lakes and the sea