My first bask on the beach usually consists of me unwinding a tightly wound knot.
“Hello, Sea.”, I say. “Remember me?” She waves and nods a beckoning yes.
But I can’t answer her pull. In the oceans muchness she isn’t yet enough. I’m still so clouded she can’t get through. She is so big and so beautiful, and I am so tense and so corroded, that I can’t really see the sea yet.
But as the week winds on, I’ll unwind. I’ll empty enough to receive what God offers me right here on the brink. I’ll warm up to what the waters offer.
As for this first foray to the ocean on this beach however, I don’t even desandle my feet. I don’t splash or wade or wander. I just begin my healthy unravel. I scribble in my little writing book, and I pray through all my worries, and start the gently unfurl.
Lord, heal and speak and whisper and shout and reach me.
