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?

Fathers' Day 2020: New Frames

Like many people living though COVID 19 times, I used the stay-at-home days to tackle long neglected home projects. Piles of paperwork were filed, new batteries were put in the fire detectors whether they needed them or not, and each bicycle is now is operational form. Recently, I’ve turned my attention to the many photographs displayed throughout our home and my studio. Some needed to be replaced with more current photos, but others just needed to be reframed. I always marvel at how much better a picture can look if it’s put in a suitable frame. 

I suppose that work prepared me for today, Fathers’ Day. I know it’s a wonderful celebration for many, but there are those for whom this is not an easy day. “It’s complicated,” said a friend when he spoke of Fathers’ Day, and I couldn’t agree more. Searching for father songs for my Spotify Fathers’ Day playlist, has shown me what a common struggle today can be. 

My father died when I was a freshman in college. I adored him. In fact, I’d say I idolized him. A kind and loving man with a wonderful sense of humor. A consummate performer, he was brilliant and enormously creative. He was a man of faith and lived out that faith in word as well as deed. The problem is, when someone like that dies so early in life, their reputation becomes legendary, their shadow all-encompassing.

Then there’s the whole being a father thing. Like New Year’s Eve, when people put on silly hats and drink too much all in the name of forcing a good time, Father’s Day can feel a bit orchestrated. Like midnight on January 1, we wait for the band to play only to see all the ways we haven’t been the fathers we hoped to be. 

This year I’m going to fight such morose thoughts and let the day be what it is. I’m going to accept my fatherhood for what it is and give thanks for the father I had. I’m going to look at Fathers’ Day anew, giving thanks for the many blessings rather than bemoaning the many shortcomings. In other words, I’m going to take all my old thoughts and images out of their frames and move them into new ones.