The ocean is my favorite place to be. It’s weird that I hardly ever go there, but just thinking about being there takes my breath away. I remember riding my bike through the Kalaloch campground with my sister, and we’d always stop at the top of the walkways down to the beach and just look. I remember closing my eyes and breathing deeply in, the salt water smells seeping into every pore of my body. I remember the goosebumps on my skin as I felt the wind and the warmth of the sun on my face. I remember tears sneaking down the corner of my eyes as I felt so so small in the presence of this magnificent, powerful scene.
How ironic that in the moments that I’m struggling, I also picture the ocean, but it’s not like that in my mind. The moments when I’m having a hard time are the moments I’m drowning in the ocean. The waves swirling all around me. I kick hard with my feet and push through the black water with my hands. Trying desperately to reach the surface before I can no longer hold my breath and my lungs seer with the pain of sucking in salt water. The darkness envelops me and the panic sets in as I wonder if I can ever make it out of there alive.
I. Keep. Going. Though. I love to swim. I’m a strong swimmer. I have always loved the water. In my darkest moments, when the water seems too much, I still drive to the beach and just sit and stare and think and breathe and listen. The water is calming. The water soothes my soul. And as turbulent as it can get when I’m fighting against it, I always return to the water. It’s cleansing. It’s calming. It is inviting and beckons me to forget the crazy that is going on around me.
For a while after Brian died and so much came to the surface, I had this recurring dream. I was driving across this narrow road with water on both sides. I couldn’t slow down and the truck was barreling faster and faster. Eventually there was a corner and my truck would careen off the path and flip into the water. I would fly out of the truck, hit the water, and begin sinking down into the dark, murky water. I should have been afraid, but I wasn’t ever. Every time I would have this dream, I would allow myself to float downward. Sink lower and lower into the water. Down in the depths I would find absolute peace and happiness. Joy. I would be able to see clearly and breathe deeply. And I always had this feeling that everything was going to be alright.
Psalm 89:9 says “You rule over the surging sea; when its waves mount up, you still them.”
God is in control always. He’s there when I’m sitting in my car at the beach watching the glass-like surface of the water in the calm. He’s there when I can’t stop the waves from pulling me under and I don’t know if I’ll ever find my footing. He is present in the water. He is whispering to me to be still and keep pressing forward. He is there, in all seasons, in all weather, in all circumstances. He is guiding me through the peaceful memories of my childhood and using the turbulent nightmares that pull me into the depths. In all circumstances, I will trust.
Water is powerful, majestic, a force to be reckoned with. But so is our Father. Like water, He will fill up your empty spaces and guide you where He wants you to go. We need only have faith.
I’m not certain where my next steps of life may lead. I don’t have all the answers or know the plans He has for me always. But I know that He is as constant as the sea. I will have faith that all I need to do is turn my eyes towards Him and have faith. Trust that He is in charge. And keep visiting the beach as a reminder of His grace and power and beauty.
Just keep swimming...
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