The Naked Crab

A fresh start, a vulnerable chapter in my life, I had to begin where I left off and start with this story...

Naked Crabs

At the sea shore, every pool and puddle left by the retreating tide seems to have a little crab it in. Little ones scuttle sideways squeezing under rocks, peeking from a patch of seaweed, occasionally venturing out to nibble on unwary human toes.

Now and then you may see bigger crabs, in deeper pools. With ponderous majesty, they wave huge claws as a warning to stay away.On the beach, shells of crabs lay washed up by the waves. Some are from crabs that died. Others are simply discarded, a dwelling far too small for its growing occupant. That's how crabs grow bigger- when their shells get too tight, they split the shell open and grow a new one.

I've never talked with a crab. But I imagine the process of splitting a shell must be painful. I'm sure that until they grow a new shell, they must feel terribly defenceless and vulnerable. Because that's how we humans feel when we crack open our shells.

Our shells aren't visable like crabs. But they are there just the same- shells formed by years of habit, shells that protect us from other people, shells that are the roles we play as teachers, children, bosses or employees.

Every now and then we crack our shells open and emerge into the new world, quivering and defenceless.Teenagers do it as they become adults. No wonder they get cracked sometimes. Adults do it as they learn- as they let go running their children's lives; or when they get retrenched at work: or when the family's life-situation changes and they have to start all over again, alone. When they know failure. When a dream disappears.

In all these traumas of life, a shell is broken. A new vulnerable life is started. Like a shell, the the longer the shell has been growing around us, the harder it is to break it open. The more painful to start again.

Some of our shells have been worn for generations. Our Christian faith can be a shell handed down by our ancestors. Some faith shells are worth keeping. Others have become prisons - shells so encrusted with the barnacles of the past, so burning with trailing weeds, so constricted, that we can no longer move when God calls.

No one looks for painful experiences, in life or in faith. To avoid pain, we may prefer to stay locked into shells that no longer fit very well, rather than risk the vulnerability of cracking them open. But when a crab's shell becomes too thick, too protective, too tough to crack open and start again, then the crab cannot grow any more.

That's when it dies. So do we.