Beep beep. Wake up time. Definitely coffee time. Whew! Good run time. Mmmm, breakfast time. Rush hour time. Late for clock in time, whoops.
Meeting time. Presentation time. Lunch time. Paper football time. Another meeting time. Dreaded paperwork time. And finally, finally quitting time.
Now, official vacation time. No schedules, no set times. Stay up, sleep in, drink before five, lay in the sun, swim in the surf, and play in the sand. Whatever my heart desires. Now I’m on beach time.
I’d rather be there, than here.I know I have to be here, but I will still daydream about there. I will close my eyes and be there.
Where the salty water meets the sand. Where the breeze blows and the waves crash.
A place that seems like the edge of the Earth. Somewhere that mimics Heaven itself. Somewhere I see all of God’s glory in every detail.
Yes, I’d rather be there, but I know I’m needed here.
You have given me each grain of sand. Every shell and each wave are Your treasures. The sunsets You cascade down the stretch of sand, and across the horizon, are Your foreshadowing masterpieces; Giving us a glimpse of Your kingdom. For all Your mercy, all Your faith, to You Lord I will serve.
Oh, I would be the one to answer, “yes!” to any adventurous endeavor that would be bestowed upon us. You would be the one to sit back and let the decision settle, before committing to anything.
Each boat in this marina is accompanied with an anchor and sails. A strong hard-headed anchor at that. And a free-spirited sail that is every bit of hard-headed as the anchor, if not more if she were completely honest.
As we make our way down the sun-beaten path to our powerful floating vessel, I cant help but think how much we are like the anchor and sail that inhabit our boat. The sails would let the wind direct them in any which way, but the anchor, the stubborn hard-headed anchor, gives the sails a chance to sit back and enjoy the ride instead of flying through the journey. Sometimes, just sometimes the sails can drag the anchor little, by little, in excitement of a new adventure.
Although, we always agree on where the boat should end up, we usually don’t agree on how it should get there. But I guess that is all apart of the trip. To see who can instill the stubbornness in the other.
As we travel and sail, different opinions are discussed on the salty water. There may be a flutter in the sail and my heart and there maybe some apprehension in the anchor and your plan, but there is always a balance. A different, opinionated balance I wouldn’t trade for all the oceans.
Growing up I could look out of every window in my tiny home and see corn, hay, and soybeans growing. Cow pastures would pop up in between the mix and the only bodies of water were the local lakes and creeks. I was, and still am, proud of where I came from. It was a working man’s country, small, but big in pride. And I shared that pride with my entire community. I was happy to be apart of old Small Town, U.S.A.
Now, as an adult, I look back on those memories fondly, still inhabiting the same proud smile on my face. At this point in my life, I can now look out of every window in my home and see the ocean. My grass has now become sand and my local lakes and creeks have turned into sea, sound, and estuaries.
Every morning, as I stroll the water’s edge, I am rewarded with simple treasures of seashells and sea glass. Such little gestures that fill almost every empty bottle and mason jar in my home. With each step I keep my gaze on the horizon, anticipating the arrival of the sun. The dark colors of night have faded as the morning colors have began to swirl, creating God’s masterpiece. Just as the hues begin to brighten and deepen, the sun makes it’s way gradually over the seal the sky and ocean have created.
All in one breathtaking moment, the sun has made an entrance, cascading light across the white sand. I’m drawn to the sight before me and although, I would love to stay where the water meets the shore, I am needed back at my home to prepare for work. I may not travel from my home for my career, but I do have to make it a point to stay out of my backyard until my work is finished.
After I think I can’t stand one more minute of my day, I am surprised with the fact that my day is actually over. My afternoon plays out similarly to my morning. I walk where the edge of land meets the edge of water. I collect glass and shells just as I did 8 hours ago. Even though my routine is the same day in and day out, I couldn’t ask for anything more. I wouldn’t trade my backyard for all the riches in the world.
We run to this place. Our mini-vans and suvs packed to the gills with every essential we could possibly fathom. We are tired, our kids are on our very last nerve, and we question if we even should have taken on this 12 hour drive or even the whole vacation in the first place. But then in one magical, second-wind moment, we get a wiff of the salt air through the vents. A rejuvenation encases the whole cab and peace descends, enveloping the madness and tossing it out the sun roof.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, our vehicles come to a stop and we are officially on vacation. After scrambling everything out of the car quick-fast-and-in-a-hurry, a beeline is made to the waves. A few stumbles up the dune and we can see the water. As the beach chairs unfold and the towels unravel, the koozies wrap the adult beverages and finally life is at peace.
So, now bring on vacation. Bring on the lazy days, the days with out bills, and the days without an alarm clock. One sip of the bottomless drink and a sigh of relief escapes into the tradewinds.
She’s finally over. The publicized hurricane-of-the-century, left as fast as she came in. There is damage. There is flooding. There is less beach than before. This isn’t new to any of us. We have gone through much worse and much less worse, but now is the time to go out and see the damage. She may have tried to knock our archipelago off the map, but here we all stand, together.
Making my way to the now even smaller strip of sand, the shells and numerous marine animals lied where they had been thrown from the ocean. I peak my head over the many sea creatures, hoping for a stir. If so, I work my quickest to get them back to their salty home. As I swiftly move and gently replace the marine life, other native beach-goers are also participating in the valiant effort to return them home.
A sense of relief overcomes us all as we know they are all back where they belong. I look out towards the next island in our clan. I can see the storm has sunk in her claws. I raise my hand to my brothers across water, sending my prayers their way. Although, we have a lot of work ahead of us, we are ready. And just before we turn are backs to head home, God lays out a beautiful rainbow, with vibrant hues, sending his promise to every islander.
They quietly tiptoed past the sleeping homes along the street. With each step they were closer to the beach and further from the shared vacation home. Both giggled as they made their way over the tall dune, anticipating the sand and waves. Nostalgia swept over, reminding them of their high school-sweetheart past and how they would sneak out late at night and not come back until well after morning.
Nighttime still swept over the beach, but the roar of the ocean was just as prominent in the dark as it was in daylight. A makeshift bed, composed of an old blanket and extra flannel shirts for pillows, gave them the perfect spot to enjoy the stars. On their backs they pointed out the constellations they could remember and giggled at the ones they would make up. With each passing minute they re-fell in love with one another as if it were their first date all over again. Here they were almost twenty years later and still they made it a point to act like kids, just to keep the fire going.
While the stars burned and the crabs scurried through the sand, they lay there enjoying one another’s embrace, hoping this moment wouldn’t end. They talked and laughed well into the morning, until they knew they should go back before everyone wondered where they were, or had been. The sun began to take over his shift, shooing the moon and stars, and reminding them of the time they planned on going back. Instead, they stayed where they were watching the sun bust through the horizon, causing a cascade of colors to sweep across the sky. How could they leave when everything was so perfect?