Getting to the Waves

The waves were good that day. They were curling and breaking fifty yards from shore and it looked like a perfect afternoon for bodysurfing. To get to the waves, however, my twelve-year-old frame needed to forge its way through the surf and strong current. It’ll be worth it, I told myself as I began, but more than a few times along the way I wondered if I had the strength to get out to where the waves were breaking.

I can see now how my struggle that day was a foreshadow of many other struggles we all experience. Like the waves, there are countless things to which we aspire: a marriage, a job, a start-up company, a novel or other piece of art. To reach those or any other goal, there’s a journey through a tumultuous sea. We’ll be pushed and pulled in every direction, and the struggles will cause us to question whether it’ll be worth it in the end.

There are those who see the rough sea as a deterrent, a resistance, placed between us and our goal to test our resolve. Some have even given such resistance a horn, tail, and pitchfork! Others accept it all as the price for having goals and dreams, just like the waves and surf are part of the same sea. Regardless of how you see it, to reach the waves - to have a successful marriage, a vibrant faith, a meaningful job, a thriving company – there are waters to navigate. The journey can be strenuous, which is why so many give up before they’re half-way there. 

On that particular day, I made it beyond the surf to the waves which were among the best I’ve ever known. They lifted me high and sent me soaring toward the shore. I would never have experienced the ride if I hadn’t persevered through the rough seas. 

I need to remember that. Maybe, we all do.

Rhythm of the Beach

The first day at the beach is always an adjustment. The logistics of getting here are over, and I awaken to air, lighting, and scenery different from my usual world. Being at the beach is more than arriving. It doesn’t just happen. I have to slow my pace and quiet my mind. Walking on the shore with my white, tender feet, I let the waves wash away another year’s toil. I listen to the sound as they wash up on the shore then return, like a heartbeat. Up, back, up, back. My breathing begins to follow along. 

My mind’s not as quick to comply. Thoughts about getting here and unpacking, as well as the work I plan to do while away, distract me. I’ve brought more books than I can possibly read in a week, a list of calls I need to make, and an over-stuffed beach bag of concerns I’m determined to figure out. The seagulls laugh at such a to-do list.

My pace slows as one foot sinks into the wet sand after another. The waves and the birds go about their business, inviting me into the present moment. Like a child wrestling with a blanket, protesting he/she’s not tired, I fight this slowing down. I carry on, though, knowing my heart and mind will eventually slow to the rhythm of the beach.

It’s a familiar first-day-at-the-beach liturgy, and I comply with the call to worship.

Extra Credit:

1. When was the last time you slowed down?

2. What’s the hardest part of getting your heart and mind to join you on vacation?

3. Is there a way to slow to the rhythm of the beach even when you’re not there?

Out of the Closet

I received the call the day before leaving for a new job in England. It was from my best friend from college who called to tell me he was gay. I was shocked, but, looking back, I shouldn’t have been. Still, on my flight across the ocean, I thought about our friendship, about my friend and what it must have been like to have lived in the closet for all those years, as well as what a relief it must have been to come out. Living in a closet is not unique to people hiding their sexual orientation. Closets come in all shapes and sizes, and the reasons to hide in them are countless. 

Everyone, I believe, has found refuge in such a place at some point in his or her life. I grew up with a room that had a big closet. I used to bring my stuffed animals in there with me, a blanket, and a flashlight. It was cozy and safe. Over time, however, cozy became cramped, safe became lonely. I remember the cool air waiting for me when I opened the door. I’m sure my friend felt that way after he came out of his closet. 

Closets provide refuge. In them, we can hide part or all of us because, for whatever reason, we feel something about us is wrong or needs hiding. Fearing we’re not good enough, we retreat to a place where no one will see, judge or laugh at us. Just writing that makes me sad. 

I marvel at my friend’s courage even after all these years. I give thanks for the way he expanded my heart and empowered me to see in a new way. I believe we’ve all been given the gift of life, and God wants us to live life fully – with all that we are, with all that we have. That’s what an abundant life is all about, and on this, my friend’s birthday, I write to invite you to open the closet doors and breathe the fresh air waiting for us all.

Extra Credit:

1.     What parts of your life do you hide from others? From yourself?

2.     Why do you think those parts need to be hidden?

3.     What would it take to bring them out of the closet, and what would such a full or abundant life look and feel like?