Vacation n. (from Latin vacare, to be empty) 1. freedom from any activity; rest; respite; intermission 2. a period of rest and freedom from work, study, etc.; time of recreation, usually a specific interval in a year 3. the act of making vacant

Vacant adj. (from Latin vacare to be empty) 1. having nothing in it; devoid of contents; empty, void; 2. not filled or occupied; 3. not filled with activity or work; free; leisure


Getting away for a vacation this summer was like attempting to get off I-4 at the right exit during Friday afternoon bumper-to-bumper traffic. As June and July rolled into August, we kept missing one exit after another, moving further and further away from a chance to spend some valuable time together as a family while the off-ramp of the beginning of the school year was approaching us like a freight train. The main culprit for this congestion has been Doug’s work load which, rather than diminishing, exploded with the beginning of the summer. Twelve new language recordings of a recently produced movie Magdalena – Released from Shame started spinning on his plate like 12 miniature hurricanes, all ready to make a landfall in the early fall.

I felt a growing sense of urgency to step out of this crammed-up tunnel where we are (or at least we think we are) in charge into that Reality in which it is hilariously obvious that God is God and we are not - the spacious universe of empty and void where the Spirit of God can hover over the deep of our souls and speak again the Word of Life, re-creating and re-newing, enlarging and energizing our shriveled-up, tunnel-vision existence.

Against all hope, exactly one week before school started we loaded up the car and headed to Englewood, Florida where some dear friends graciously allowed us to use their trailer. Having resisted the internal pressure to jam-pack our time with all the fun and exhausting activities suitable for an average vacationing family, I still felt restless and unsettled upon our arrival. As we were unloading the junk from our car, I grumbled a prayer, There, God! Here we are. If You wish, show Yourself to us. We sure NEED it!

The next day we grabbed a handful of sand toys, PB&J sandwiches and some drinking water and trotted off to the beach. When we got there, we encountered no burning bush (although the sand was pretty hot under our feet) and no lightening or thunder (whew!). What I did notice was how BIG the beach was – much bigger than our kitchen or laundry room, our house or the back yard, or even the sprawling Campus Crusade for Christ Headquarters! It stretched out endlessly as far as you can see in both directions, and it offered (free of charge!) unlimited supply of sculpting material which, during the course of our vacation we formed into a giant sea turtle and a bona fide Florida Snowman :-). There were nesting grounds of sea turtles lovingly marked off with yellow tape triangles and hidden treasures of seashells, baby crabs and shark teeth buried all around!

There were no guards and no gates (at least not the kind of gates to keep people out). The only rule spelled out was Swim at Your Own Risk with a map of what to do if caught in a rip current. No No Diving, no No Running, not even Wear Your Swimsuit at All Times. But nothing could have prepared us for the shock of seeing six-foot foaming giants relentlessly pounding the shore which sent dread up and down our spines. For a while, we just stood there in the shallows, hopelessly trying to secure our footing in the constantly shifting sand. But, as we watched the bodysurfers and people on boogie-boards having a time of their lives, the dance of the ocean emerged, beckoning us to jump in. Within minutes we were completely won over by this wild beast, getting drenched again and again, seaweeds hanging over our heads, submerged and surrendered, going down and popping back up, going down again, following its intrinsic rhythm, dancing according to its beat. We were like newly hatched baby sea turtles who have struggled their way down the hot, dry sand to the refreshing home where they truly belong.

And even though we were so small in this all-encompassing vastness, it was as if our joy and the dance, our fear and surrender mattered immensely; as if at least some of the ocean’s many mysterious purposes were being fulfilled in this free interplay between its waves and both big and little children frolicking in the foamy hem of his garment. Of course, it is hard to have fun in the ocean standing at a safe distance on dry ground, trying to keep your hair from getting all messed up or even trying to keep your head above water. We have to let go, we have to get dunked, we have to get drenched. And in the dunking, in the drenching, the hard shell cracks and the new life of another baby sea turtle joins in the dance.