Broken Shells

Folks, my little box of treasures has a monetary value of, if I’m lucky, maybe $10, but the stuff in there is priceless to me.

No doubt it’ll be turned into landfill when I ‘renew’ at some point down the track.

The real gold is in the stories behind each trinket, and the one that’s left its’ deepest mark on me was the ugliest, little bastard of a seashell you’ve ever seen.

It was collected by my daughter about fifteen years ago. We were walking along the beach and, while I was pondering areas of my life which were not going so well, my daughter ran about collecting seashells and handing them to me so we could take them home.

It says a lot about how distracted I was when she came running up with another piece to add to her collection and it was only then I noticed the shells she had gathered were not exactly, pretty.

But the one she was holding out to me at that moment was the Elephant Man of seashells.

“This one?” I asked, “You really want to take this, ah, thing, home?!”

She nodded, “And all the others!”

I stared at the motley collection.

“But, they’re all broken little mate,” I said. “Why don’t you collect some nice ones.”

She gave this some thought then said, “Someone’s got to love the broken shells Dad.”

Someone’s got to love the broken shells…

The words stopped me dead in my tracks.

I took the shell from her and put it in my pocket as she raced off.

I never did get round to covering it in epoxy to preserve it. My life took some pretty interesting twists and turns and I was a bit preoccupied, to say the least, to bother with such a simple task.

I wish I had now.

Still, over the years, the ugly little shell survived numerous moves, bits fell off, it cracked, split, wore down and, eventually, turned to dust.

But her earnest words remain engraved on my heart.

‘Someone’s got to love the broken shells'

Years later I find myself supporting people in the NDIS. It’s the best and worst ‘career’ I’ve ever had. Most days are pretty good, but some are diabolically bad.

I have memories to last several lifetimes, but one particular moment stands out from an epically bad day one of my participants was having. Trust me, most of this blokes’ days are pretty bad (through no fault of his own), but this one was truly something else.

I’d never heard him complain about his condition, ever, nor did he wail at Fate for dealing him such terrible cards. Often, he’ll amaze me with his selflessness, compassion and concern for others. He lives on pennies a day yet still gives what he can, with a cheerful heart, to those he thinks are less fortunate than he is!

This bloke has Character in spadefuls.

So, on this particular day, after a shocking run of Shit Ducks had finished lining up to crap all over him, twice, he was having a bit of a moment. He had every right to vent, and I was happy to let him.

Hell, I wanted to join in!

But his bitter mood didn’t last long. He sighed then, staring out the car window, said, “I just wish! I wish I was normal like you Greg!”

That was a moment.

I pulled the car over and said, “Mate, listen to me very, very carefully, because this is important. You know what ‘Normal’ is don’t you?”

He nodded, “Yeah, it’s a setting on the washing machine.”

It’s an old NDIS joke.

“That’s right mate. There’s no such thing as normal when it comes to people.”

“You are though! You’re seem pretty normal, I mean, compared to me!”

“Right, you asked for it,” I muttered.

Then, for the next few minutes, I rattled off the many, and varied, ways I was screwed up, warped, twisted and broken. I didn’t tell him everything, but there was enough to leave him open-mouthed with surprise.

“So, we’re really not that different then?!”

“If you remember nothing else I say to you, just remember this:

Everybody is a Red-Hot Mess, but some people are better at hiding it.”

This made him smile. “I’m glad we met Greg.”

I gave his good arm a friendly punch, “Yeah, me too mate.”

“Do you think I’ll ever get better?” he asked as we drove off.

“I hope not mate, I need the money.”

But he’s part of my ‘treasure collection’ now.

No matter where we end up in life, we’ll stay in touch, help each other where we can, share a laugh, compare outrageous stories, or terrible jokes, and sneak in a gift or two.

Someone’s got to love the broken shells.

Even the ones that look ‘Normal’.

Cheers,

And now, from The Phone of Greg, it’s time for the welcome return of: