A Storyteller at Heart

I had a memory return earlier this year: as a child, I loved sitting with the neighborhood kids and telling stories. I remembered that I am, at heart, a storyteller.

Tomorrow my new book, Spiritual Parable as a Daily Practice, will be released on Amazon. I hope you’ll consider buying it—but even if you don’t, I’d like to share a story I recently wrote for my next book. It carries the same heartbeat you’ll find in my new release. Enjoy!

The Shell Collector 

By C.J. Miller 

Sirena walked the seashore every morning, basket in hand. Shells of every size and hue caught her eye. She found them exquisite, each one carrying a story. She polished them, arranged them in neat rows on her wooden shelves inside her hut by the water. She told herself it was her calling—to protect them, to keep them safe. 

Sirena prided herself on her nurturing nature. As a child, she always assisted her mother and pleased her father. Now, she believed it was her duty to care for the shells, to preserve what others overlooked and did not see. 

When no one bought them, she held tighter. When the baskets overflowed, she stacked them against the walls. At night, she heard their clatter in her dreams, always demanding more of her care. Over time, the shells grew heavy, though she scarcely noticed how bent her back had become. 

One evening, a storm rose from the horizon. Waves thundered against the shore. The roof lifted from her hut, the sign tore loose, and the shells she had so carefully tended tumbled back down the beach.  

When she awoke, she rushed to gather them, heart pounding. But just as she picked the first one up, she paused. 

She fell into the sand, salt stinging her face, and whispered, What if I let them be? What if they are not mind to tend? 

The shells were not hers to guard. They belonged to the rhythm of the sea, to the mystery of rising tide and moon. She laughed softly, the first lightness she had felt in years. Lifting the single shell, she tossed it back into the waves. A breeze brushed the hair from her eyes. Then she rose, bare feet sinking into wet sand, and walked the shoreline unburdened. 

The sea would give. The sea would take. And she could simply walk, light and free. 

Contemplate 

• What “shells” do I carry that are not truly mine? 

• Where do I confuse caretaking with control? 

• Can I love fully without carrying what is not mine? 

• What storms in my life might actually be invitations to release? 

Affirmation 

I release what is not mine to carry.  

I can love others without taking on their burdens.

I honor the gifts that flow through the sea of life.

I walk lightly, guided by Spirit’s wisdom.

I am whole, free, and at peace.