We sit in a parking lot near the lumber yard while the car shakes with my sobs.
“Are you going to be okay?” he asks. “Do you want to go home?”
Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so sensitive. I wish I could separate God pleasing from people pleasing. I wish I didn’t feel another’s pain, or feel like I feel it.
I wish I didn’t feel so tired of this situation.
I wish I didn’t feel. so. helpless.
We decide to go on, and I dream of face throbbing to the sun’s beat, of body bobbing on waves, of water washing away tense.
But the closer we get, the further the sun gets. It buries itself in gray. And our one summer day at Lake Michigan seems destined for disappointment.
We swing our mats and chairs over shoulders, tote bags of books and Subway sandwiches, and a cooler of water. We hike through woods and over dune sand only to be met with a sea of platinum, few people on the beach, and none in the water.
I slip off my sandals and dare to dance a toe in ice.
That’s enough.
We eat lunch, and then D trudges the half mile or so back to the car for warmer clothes.
A seagull joins me. It eyes the sandwich crumbs under the chair but doesn’t dare come closer. I rustle in the box, pull out a small cheese cracker and lay it in the sand.
Food! Four more seagulls come from nowhere, and I laugh as the first flattens its body, fluffs its feathers, squawks and chases. It claims this territory, but it’s not coming closer.
I stretch out on the straw mat and doze under towel cover.
Under cloud cover, above and within.
D returns, and I sit up, cross-legged. I slip on my blue “Lake Michigan Unsalted” sweatshirt, pull the hood over head, zip up to chin. I wrap towels around my legs and nibble from a bag of mini Oreos while I watch the waves roll, topple, and fold in on themselves before they break into white foam and spill on shore.
I see the cracker’s gone.
“What causes the waves to break?” I ask.
He doesn’t know, but later I read they move faster in the deep, like ripples. But when they reach the shallows, they slow down. They get higher as bottom hits bottom, get ahead of themselves, lose their shape, and then collapse into white foam and churning sand.
There’s beauty in their brokenness.
I’m caught up in their rhythm.
But I think I’d rather be a deep wave.
I scoop up fine black and beige granules and let them sift between my fingers, then lightly pass my palm back and forth. God promised Abraham descendants like numberless grains. Did Jesus write the sins of the woman’s accusers in sand so they couldn’t lift a stone? Has He brushed mine smooth and sent them out to sea?
“There won’t be a sunset tonight,” I sigh.
“Oh, there’ll be a sunset,” he answers. “We just won’t see it.
I ponder this. How even when we can’t see, God’s got His holy finger on the pulse of this planet. The sun rises and sets, the moon slivers and circles, the seasons swing. All in perfect rhythm.
The very atmosphere, the air we breathe, quivers with His music. I close my eyes and listen, inhale fresh—and slightly fishy.
The sun peeks out briefly, and the water sparkles for a few moments.
I feel His finger on this fragile flutter heart. “Peace,” He whispers.
And the beat slows down.
And the beat goes on.
Then He arose and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace, be still!” And the wind ceased and there was a great calm. ~Mark 4:39 (NKJV)
You write with such passion! I loved this!
So fun to see you over here, Terri! And thank you. 🙂
I love this, Sandy. One holy overcast day at the beach.
His finger on it all. Yes.
I love when we can find the holy in the gray as well as the gold. Thanks, friend. Can’t wait to see you next month. 🙂
I can’t wait either! (I can’t wait, too?)
🙂
His presence and holiness and peace in all things . . . You have expressed these beautifully here, Sandy!
Oh, thank you, Martha. It’s comforting to know He’s there and He blesses in all things.
Love this, friend. Love it. I went in a sorta similar direction last night, too…. the light and the darks of it all. But this is gorgeous and rich. Thank you.
Thanks, Diana. And that post of yours? Oh my. Powerful.
Yes, even when we can’t see the sunset. Indeed.
Sometimes I can’t seem to remember what I learned in Kindergarten, He’s got the whole world in His hands.
Thanks for this very tender write.
Whole world. Every beat. Every detail. Thanks for coming by, Kelli.
This is so good Sandy – just a little picture of life and the ever-present One. You always touch my heart.
Ever present in the midst of life’s slivers. 🙂 You do the same for me, roomie.
{sigh} You always take my breath away! Saying a prayer for you, sweetie!
Thank you, Lynn. You always encourage. Perhaps I shall eat a CDBS in your name today. 🙂
. Did Jesus write the sins of the woman’s accusers in sand so they couldn’t lift a stone? Has He brushed mine smooth and sent them out to sea? oh I love this line…I am taking this with me today…great post…blessings to you~
And to you, Ro. Thank you.
Beautiful Sandra, just beautiful……I am glad I saw this today, there is always a sunrise, sunset, when we have the faith to see it.
And we need those rhythms, the ups and the downs, for balance and growth, right? Thank you, Lori.
Sandra, how very very beautiful are your words and your heart here. Thank you for this…. and yes and amen to trusting and knowing even when we cannot see. Thank you for speaking these words of assurance.
Ah, Elizabeth. Thank you for blessing me today.
Isn’t it amazing the way we can see better with our heart when we sit next to what he creates? All that heaviness floating away with each ripple. You took me right beside you on that chilly bit of sand. Loved every minute.
That’s so true, Shelly. When I get close to His world, I and my heavy feel so small and light. And the tears turn to praise.
Gasp! This is so beautiful Sandy. My.
What a fascinating explanation of why waves break. All of it, pure beauty. You knocked it out of the park, girlfriend.
I thought the wave thing was pretty cool, too. I’m going to need to dive deeper into that. 😉
I’m so glad I know you!
I loved it. And I always enjoy watching seagulls. When I’m on the waterfront in Seattle, I always try to buy French fries and toss them to the seagulls that float around that area. THEN, when I’m on a ferry back and forth from Bremerton to Seattle, I toss fries to them again. Don’t think it’s healthy for them, but they sure love it and they ain’t skinny or sickly… they are happy. In October when I’m out there, I hope to do the same thing. AND look at the waves, AND the beach sands, AND the sun [or at least know it is rising and setting even if I can never see it]. Glad you survived your day of heaviness with your dear one and your Dear One.
We’ve had gulls dive from behind and take a bite of our food before. Little thieves. 🙂 Amazing what a day of water and waves can do for one’s spirits.
Doesn’t sound like disappointment happened there. The kiss of sun on water–even briefly (maybe better for the longing) and the twining of the fingers? Just perfect.
Disappointment –> God’s appointment. 🙂
My most peaceful day will always be on the shores of Lake Michigan (unless there is a storm of course). God’s presence is magnified there for me. Those shores are a balm. Healing. I love your word pictures….I felt myself there, too. Three quarters of my life I lived not more than a mile or two from the lake, but no longer. I miss it greatly. Thanks for transporting me again.
I would love to live closer than we do. Yes, those are sacred beaches–saturated with Him. Thanks, Diane.