Riding the Waves

The last two days reminded me of something. It reminded me of one of my few trips to the ocean. This particular trip, I got to swim in the Atlantic. I was terrified at first. It was open coast. No sheltered little bay. Just waves rolling in with nothing between me and the next continent. I got used to it. I managed to get past the first line of breakers and get out into the water. After a few sinus-fuls of fishy salt water, I got the hang of moving with the waves. It was a rush. Some waves were small. Some were unexpectedly huge. Some felt colder than others. Some took me from my feet touching to nowhere near touching. Sometimes I landed on soft sand. Sometimes something sharp poked me in the foot when I came down.

That was the last two days. And, honestly, a lot of seasons in my life. I'm just feeling it acutely, like I'm right there riding the waves.

I'm doing OK. Then I'm not. Then I'm mostly OK. Then something smacks me in the face. Then I step on something sharp. Then I relax and enjoy what's around me. Then I feel a big one coming toward me and I turn to face it. Then the big one breaks early and I barely get a wave. Then a gorgeous perfect wave rolls under me and I smile in delight. Then the next wave....

That's how it's going. That's why I have a hard time answering the question, "How are you?" It kind of depends on the wave I'm riding at that moment.

Elijah keeps reminding me how we can walk on water if we're looking at Jesus. He love that Bible story. It's been on my mind lately. I had this little daydream today that he's standing out there looking steadily at me, just waiting for me to fix my eyes on him and quit watching the waves. He's not waiting for me on the beach, he's out there in the waves with me.