There are very few places I would rather be than sitting on warm, soft sand, gazing at the ocean.
The sea is magical to me–its vastness, its mystery, its beauty, its lulling sound, even its salty aroma. And it never fails, every time I sit and stare at the ocean, I feel an irresistible tug towards my Creator.
Every now and then, if the water is warm enough, I love to swim in it too. Now, I’ve never been surfing on a board, but I’ve watched the sport and I have attempted to body surf. My husband, a Ft. Lauderdale-born-and-raised boy, instructs our entire family in body surfing every time we go into ocean waters with waves big enough to ride.
The trick, he says, is to just relax and let the wave carry you after you dive into the water as the wave comes upon you.
Sounds easy enough, right? Maybe. Maybe not. Just depends on how you as a person react to the idea of a wave crashing over your head.
These past few months, I’ve felt a lot of waves crashing over my head. Waves of perplexity about our future. Waves of helplessness. Waves of anger and frustration. And whether I relax and let the water carry me or fight the waves–it does not matter. I will still be thrust forward. You see, it’s God’s wave we are riding. Only He knows where we will come ashore. I cannot stop it; I cannot swim against it; I really have no choice but to relax and go with the flow. So as Ted and I face a host of uncertainties, I am just riding God’s wave and with apprehension, excitement, and yes, a bit of fear, waiting to see where it will take us.