Broken

Somebody gave me a pair of sand dollars many years ago. I don't remember who...maybe Callista or Christina, from journeys overseas. I've saved them all these years, keeping them safe and protected. But then last week when I was cleaning our office, I saw them on the floor, broken. They weren't shattered or anything. Just chipped around the edges. Nonetheless, I promptly went to the kitchen, retrieved our dustpan and swept them right up. Once I got them into the dustpan, I stopped for a moment. I usually don't discard sentimental items so quickly - especially items I've kept so long. But who needs imperfect sand dollars, right? Something was niggling at the back of my mind so I paused another moment to consider what was holding me when it came to me.

Earlier that day we took a trip to the zoo (where Jackson and Harper had their first date). We had been waiting at the entrance for Harper to arrive, when we saw a large group also waiting to go in. They were remarkable for three reasons. First, they were all wearing the same bright turquoise t-shirts. 1980's turquoise. Second, they were all adults. Since when do you gather a group of adults for a field trip to the zoo? Third, they weren't just any group of adults. On closer inspection, I saw that they were adults with special needs. Many of them looked quite unaffected, but then one would flap his arms in the air and snort, another would hit his head with his fist, another would begin slowly rolling up the end of her turquoise t-shirt to reveal bare midriff, until stopped by an adult without a turquoise t-shirt. Other adults were clearly affected with Down syndrome or physical deformities. Oh, but you should have seen the pack of them when they saw Jackson and Harper. There was a group of 6-8 who kept waving to the babies and saying "Hi, baby!" They wanted to know how old the babies were and if they were going to the zoo and if they could say hi back. They made Jackson and Harper smile...and warmed my heart.

I thought of them as I stared at my broken sand dollars. I thought of how I hold on to things as long as they serve whatever function I have designated for them. But when that purpose is fulfilled, I consider discarding...unless I think I might need it at some point. I only like to keep things I think are useful. And I thought of how we as Americans think. We are becoming a society that has no value for things or people that are "broken." So often, the imperfect are discarded because they cannot fulfill an expected purpose. Then I decided that I should blog about my thoughts....and didn't.

But today I started reflecting again about the value of a human life when I was telling Ian about the most significant part of my day. I saw a child in my dental practice who got me thinking. He was almost 13 years old and had a diagnosis of autism. He could understand instructions somewhat, but didn't talk much. He required constant supervision and was in special education. But most significantly, he was the recipient of a heart transplant. I was a bit surprised by that. I think heart donations are hard to come by. I was surprised that someone who may not become a "productive" member of society was given a healthy heart to replace his defective one. Somebody thought his life was worth saving.

So today I thought of my acquaintances at the zoo again. I thought about how delightful many of them were. And I thought of my sand dollars. I didn't want them any more because I considered them to be broken. But I've heard that if a sand dollar breaks, seven doves will be revealed. So perhaps things that are broken shouldn't be considered useless. Perhaps they are meant to be broken to serve another purpose than what we assume is intended.

Clarice