leaving the shore

I walked slowly, the sandy beach.  It was very overcast and slightly windy.  It felt freeing – the wind tousling my hair & not really caring if it was getting messed up.  I was on the beach – and that mattered a great deal to me.  It mattered even more that I was there with Shawn.

It’d been six months since I’d last stood on a sandy shore as the tide played in and out.  Six months ago I was in a completely different state of heart than I was a week ago.  I hadn’t stowed away anger and hatred in my heart this trip.  No, this trip was different.  This trip like one before it, I think was part of my healing.  It was yes, part of celebrating our marriage, but I did my best to try to listen.  To be open to what God wanted me to hear.

I wrote (literal words not art) in my writing journal for the first time in a couple of months while we were in San Diego.  I have this delusion that if I don’t put what’s going on inside down in ink it doesn’t make it as real.  I don’t have to fear them as much if I have to stare at them in their black ink-ness against lined white pages.  It’s silly because whether they’re mumbled up inside or down on paper doesn’t make my feelings any less real.  So at hotel room desk I wrote.  They – the mumbled words – still aren’t all out yet.  Even that takes time.  But I’m taking courage and learning to be brave in what I feel.

So, we strolled the sandy beach – exploring the sand for shells and what not.  Noticing the small things like how some of the sand shimmers like gold dust, and that sea foam isn’t a pretty shade of blue-green, but brown & grungy looking.  I looked at the ocean, with its swelling waves, and I realized I couldn’t just walk the shore.  I was at the OCEAN, I couldn’t go home without putting feet to depth.  I had to experience this swelling myself.

I slipped off my flip flops, and drew up my long skirt to my knees went in.  I stood there waiting for the waves to make their way to me and I realized – THIS IS BRAVE!!  I didn’t care if the water was going to be freezing, that my legs were going to be wet.  All I wanted was to feel the waves crash against me.

And they did.

And it was wonderful.

The rest of our time there I left my flip flops off.  I configured my skirt so it was at knee level.  And I danced in the tide.  I breathed slowly and felt just a little bit more whole.

I could have just walked the shore, and enjoyed the beauty around me – and I did do that.  But I realize now, had I not stepped into the ocean I would have missed out on the joy I felt as the water came crashing around me.

Being brave isn’t always about being a warrior.  Sometimes it’s about taking the baby steps.  It’s about letting your legs be bathed in salty ocean water.

It’s about taking a step into the ocean when it’d be easier to just walk the beach.