Resurrection 101 - I'm Diving In

The weather forecast predicted afternoon storms, but the glorious morning turned into a hot early afternoon, so we made an impulsive decision, loaded up the car and took off for the beach.

Life has been so incredibly stressful, the daily demands relentless and we all needed a change of pace, some time for re-alignment when you most feel you can't afford it.

Before we can see anything, we smell it.  The salty air stirred by the ocean breeze.  We walk down the boardwalk loaded with junk as if we were tourists. The moment we turn the last corner - there it is! Every time I see it, I am shocked like I've never seen it before:

The endless sand sprawled along the beach;

The endless white-capped vastness of the ocean - its breadth, its depth, the rhythms of the waves;

The endless blue of the cloudless sky.

The colliding immensity of the elements never fails to frame my little stressed-out life in liberating brush-strokes of the extravagant grace and power of God.

I breathe in, breathe out, feeling so blissfully small and out of control, my worries shrinking down to the size of the specks of sand under my feet.  I sink them deeper in, close my eyes, feeling the muscles in my neck and upper back slowly loosen. I stand there with my eyes closed for a few seconds, savoring it all. 

Then I see her.

So intent  as if the fate of the world depends on the success of her project.  Her castle sticks about a foot up in the air, the leaning tower of Pisa.  She is building the trench now, abandoned tools behind her back, her long fingers digging into the wet sand.  Then she stands up, the sand falling off her polka-dot bathing suit, and rushes toward the ocean.

She grabs a handful of water, and races back… Pours the handful into the trench… Runs back to the ocean… grabs another handful of water… rushes back…

As if she is taking something that ocean doesn't already want to give…

As if she might diminish the volume by what she holds in her hand…

As if she wants to contain the entire ocean between her squeezed fingers. 

I am exhausted just watching her.

I recognize myself in this little girl, and the mirror is both convicting and strangely freeing.

I stand up at the same time she decides to accept the steady invitation of the ocean to dive in. Her fingers unfurled. The palms of her hands wide open.  She rushes into the waves, further... and further, until she dives in, her head under, immersed, submerged, held by the same ocean she was holding in the cup of her hand. When she pops back up, her face is radiating with pure joy.  

She turns around, dripping with shimmering sparkle, waves to somebody behind me, inviting, beckoning on behalf of the ocean, then she faces the waves and goes under again.