Sea Glass

She wanders down the shoreline searching for sea glass. Periodically, she looks up and adjusts the strap on her weathered one-piece bathing suit. She used to wear a bikini, but those days are long-gone. Her skin is weathered now, with the lines and folds of being broken in. 

It's still early. Her children and their families are asleep. She and her ex-husband used to use this time to walk together. Now she sleeps and walks alone. Last night, one of her daughters confessed her marriage was in trouble and her son admitted his eldest child might need to go to rehab. There was a time when she longed for, even demanded, everyone be happy, but she’d given that up a few years ago. Now she tried to accept life for the struggle it sometimes is.

A blue piece of sea glass catches her eye and she bends down to pick it up. It’s still translucent with sharp edges, so she casts it back into the sea for more time. Farther down, she finds a green piece that’s perfect. The tides had worn down it edges and softened its color.

Looking for sea glass was something she did with her mother when she was a little girl. They would walk for hours and she would try to convince her mother a piece was ready when it wasn’t. “Give the sea time,” her mother would repeat. “Give the sea time.” 

Like her mother, she learned the sea takes a broken piece of glass and makes it a work of art. When pushed and pulled against the sand for years edges soften, and new shades of color appear.

Kind of like me, she jokes to herself as continues down the beach.

Extra Credit:

1. In what way are you like a piece of sea glass? Have you been broken? Have you been weathered by the tides? Pushed and pulled across the sand?

2. Can you see how life has worn down your edges?

3. In what way has your life become a work of art?

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?