My Beach Story
If you know me, you know that I love the beach. Actually, ‘love’ is not a word that accurately describes what the beach means to me. Friends may think that I am just a ‘beach girl’ who loves getting her tan on, but that is SO not what it is about for me. My soul is happy there. This is not a ‘yay! I’m at the beach!’ happy. I can feel a deep sense of contentment, peace and joy. I can FEEL my soul smiling, if indeed a soul can smile. With every part of my body I can feel the undertow’s pull, the gliding crest, the tumultuous collapse. I am most grounded when my feet sink into the sand. I refer to the beach as my ‘church’. It is where I go to pray. Where I feel most connected to God, the universe and everything. And while I may sit on the sand in the sun for hours with family and friends enjoying the fun that is ‘summertime’, it is when I am there alone that I most treasure that salty air. The evenings when it is just warm enough to withstand the winds off the water but still cold enough to keep everyone else away. The moment right before the sun rises, when there is a beautiful stillness to the sea but gull wings are aflutter against the dark, purple clouds. The hour after sunset when God slowly dials down the saturation and the waves begin to sleep. These are the times I am happiest. During these moments, nothing else matters. Nothing. Not the what-ifs, to-dos or whys. The clamoring worries and jangling thoughts are silenced. During these moments, the waves whisper a repeating chorus. “You… Are… Enough.” And in those moments, I believe them.