Ocean Life

 

Change.

It’s the worst.

The unknown brings feelings of fear.  Challenges previously unknown. All the what ifs.  All the what ifs.

Change.

It’s the best.

Adventure and love and heights of joy previously unknown.  All the surprises.  All the unexpected surprises.

 

We spent some time by the Pacific Ocean last week.  What else is so beautiful and alive and frightening all at once?  What, with ever-changing beauty, spins and hurls and crashes and rises and gracefully settles as it pushes and pulls upon its very edges all over again?  I’ll tell you.

Life.

The successes, the failures, the unexpected joys, the horrors, the growing…

the constant change.

Change is what draws us to the ocean.  It’s the driving force of the thing.  The currents, the rising and falling tide, the waves…they are the very reasons the ocean teems with life.  If the currents ceased, if the waves stopped, jellyfish and seashells  and sea turtles and surfers and sailors would also cease to be.  There must be movement in order for there to be the transfer of energy necessary for ocean life to continue, for surfers to surf, and for sailors to sail.  Everything we love about the ocean is brought about by its ever-changing nature (and the wind, of course, about which I often complain).

All of this brings me to Levi…

 

Here we are again, on the verge of big change…another boy is heading to Kindergarten.  Now this boy, as you may know by now, has quite a distaste for anything out of the ordinary.  He’s afraid of anything unknown, including food he’s never tried. 

Notice how far he stands from the water?  He thought at first that he’d be content to stand there all day long, playing it safe.  But even he could see that there was so much more out there in the big blue than in the sand.  The appeal of comfort eventually lost to the lure of adventure….

 

But guess what happened then?  Mama got scared.

See…for a while, I’d watched Andy, our oldest, stand and jump and run in the waves; and I’d felt confident that if a wave overtook him, I could quickly pick him up and he’d be alright.  With 2 boys out there, I was far less confident in my abilities.

Andy made it clear that he didn’t need my help, and demonstrated that fact over and over.  Did I sigh with relief and enjoy playing out there with Levi?  Nope.  I focused the anxiety of having both boys out in harm’s way, as I saw it, completely on Levi.  I grabbed him and picked him up anytime a wave approached that seemed a bit scary.  And the more worried I got, the more worried he got, and the less fun we both had.

Finally, I went to build a sand castle with Ajay, our youngest.  Levi had returned to the beach as well, and was delivering trucks full of sand to us.  Awhile later, I noticed that I hadn’t seen Levi come by for a bit.  I turned around to find him laughing hard with his cousin as they ran to the water and dashed to the beach as the waves came in and out.  He had found that there truly was so much more to be enjoyed beyond the comfort of the sand.

And this one.  I watched him stride confidently further and further out to sea with my heart in my throat.  What if he gets swept away?  What if I can’t get to him in time?  I had half a mind to tell him he could only go in up to his knees….

 

Had I done that, he…and I…would have missed this….

You know what?  If I’d had it my way, nothing would’ve ever changed when I’d turned 5.  I’d have stayed at home, playing with my Lite Brite and Barbies forever.  I’d never have gone to school.  I’d never have attempted to make a friend.  I’d never have joined the cross country team and found out that I really could run for hours on end.  I’d never have gone to college and talked with that hilarious boy that became my husband.  I’d never have had any children.

And although I also never would’ve had to tearfully watch my mom leave every day of first grade, or have fallings-out with friends, or get my heart broken, or be made fun of, or do the hard work of marriage, or bury my child….

I’m so glad I didn’t have it my way.

Does anyone ever really know what they want when they’re 5?  Or 35?  Or 55?

The allure of comfort leads us to believe that right here, right now, is as good as it gets; and if we venture out, we could mess it all up.  Sure, maybe there’s something better out there, but I don’t want something bad to happen to me.  Since nothing bad is happening right now, I think I’ll just stay right here…

I have that same heart-in-throat feeling as I think on school starting up next week.  Levi…he’s so little…he’s so scared.  I feel as though I’m throwing him into that ocean to face the waves without me.  I feel the same about Andy, although he’s proven to me many times that he can stand against the waves.  It’s just…

The tumult and uncertainty of change makes me want to try to find contentment in the here and now and leave the future untried.  I want the waves to stop because my children are out there.

But the ocean wasn’t made to be still.

If the waves all stop, son, so does the life.

And the waves are scary.  I know.  But you…you have a rock to which you can cling.  I do too.  The waves are no match for it and it does not move.  Ever.

 

“In You, O Lord, I have taken refuge…

In Your righteousness deliver me and rescue me;

Incline Your ear to me and save me.

Be to me a rock of habitation to which I may continually come…

You are my rock and my fortress….

For You are my hope; O Lord God, You are my confidence from my youth

By You I have been sustained from my birth…

Your righteousness, O God, reaches to the heavens,

You who have done great things;

O God, who is like You?

You who have shown me many troubles and distresses

Will revive me again,

And will bring me up again from the depths of the earth.” – Selections from Psalm 71

 And from the same Psalm…when the anxiety and the fear and the grieving for the loss of comfort come, this is how we cling:

 “But as for me, I will hope continually,

And will praise You yet more and more.

My mouth shall tell of Your righteousness

And of Your salvation all day long;

For I do not know the sum of them…

My lips will shout for joy when I sing praises to You;

And my soul, which You have redeemed…” – Selections from Psalm 71

 

My boys don’t need me to pick them up and run every time a wave comes; and their lives were meant for more than digging in the sand.  It’s possible that the best thing I can do for them is the very thing they should do themselves…

Cling to the Rock.

In the days ahead, you may be facing some change.  Scratch that. You will be facing change as long as you live.  With life comes change.  This change…it may be horrifying; it may be thrilling.  Cling to the Rock. He says to come habitually.  He will not tire of you.  Bring all your emotions and heartache and joy and sorrow and blurt them all out like a 3 year old on his father’s lap.  And then.

 Audaciously praise the God who made the oceans and counted the hairs on your head thinks of you more often than the number of sand grains on the shore.  I’ll do it with you.  Let Him show you His strength.  Let Him hide you from the waves.  Stand and look around and see how safe He’s made you.  Experience His unwavering care for you.  Lean with the full weight of your cares on Him.  Rest.

 

“God is our refuge and strength,

A very present help in trouble.

Therefore we will not fear, though

 the earth should change and though the mountains slip into the heart of the sea;

Though its waters roar and foam…” – Psalm 46:1-3

“O come, let us sing for joy to the Lord,

Let us shout joyfully to the rock of our salvation.” – Psalm 95:1

 The best part about clinging to the Rock?  You never have to let go.