One of my most vivid and favored memories as a child is when my family took a week long vacation to Myrtle Beach. As a child, my family didn't spend much "quality time" together unless it was through yelling, at the dinner table where my parents often forgot to show up, or when my parents were fighting in court over custody of my siblings and I.. But this particular memory is a delightful and encouraging one.
Blurs of waves crashing, and a swaying pier; faint sounds of seagulls and laughter still rings in my ears.
When I was younger- I was terrified of the ocean. ..I can only fathom it was because the size was extrememly intimidating to me, or perhaps, how unsure it seemed; so violent and vast- and it went on forever..
My Dad tried, time and again, to convince me that this foreign concept of an ocean was an okay thing. "Your brother and sister loves it, Ainslee! Why don't you want to go play in it and swim, and laugh, and ride the waves like they are?" ..But everytime Dad walked me to where the ocean met the sand, I began to stubbornly and fearfully scream.
It was taking me in! It was dissolving the earth beneath me! It was burying my feet and trying to pull my little hands out Daddy's! It was strong- stronger than Daddy, and I knew it.
Finally, Dad scooped me up and walked into the ocean with me; I was screaming the entire time. He held me over his head, and above the crashing waves until he walked out far enough into the ocean where it was calm. Then, He gently let me down, eased me into the water, and allowed me to sit on His knee as he embraced my terrified little body.
In that moment, I knew that my Dad loved me, that the ocean wasn't a bad thing- and that's all that mattered.
Mom stood at the shore, and sighed with relief (along with the other beach-dwellers that day of whom I'd been disturbing with my high-pitched little girl scream..) and I knew she was joyed that I had made peace with the big blue thing that was swallowing Daddy and I.
That day, I learned how to swim, ride the gentle waves, and got my very first sand burn. I also fell in love with the ocean. It was one of the very first things I learned to fear and appreciate.
So many times- when I'm struggling- I revert to this moment.
When we reach adulthood, all of the sudden- WE are the ones that are supposed to be fearless and wise. We are supposed to have already done it all and fit right into our place in society. We are supposed to be stronger than heartbreak, and depression, and stupid mistakes.
...But what happens when we aren't? ..What happens when we don't measure up to the expectations of adulthood? ..What happens when we don't even trust enough to let our Father hold our hands as we stand by the shore and feel so small? ..What happens when we don't notice that He is picking us up, and carrying us over the rough waves, only by His strength? ..What happens when we are too stubborn to be content when He places us into His loving arms and cuddles us as we drown in the Ocean of His Grace?
Life isn't always pleasant. Life doesn't always go the way we plan it too. Life isn't always comfortable. But when we notice His grace- His Son suffering tremendously after living the perfect life we are unable to, dying on a cross for our sins, rising again, and gifting those whom believe it with the gift of eternity- how can we NOT be comforted with the fact that the Hands that are Holding the World, are Holding Our Hearts?
When I was younger- I was terrified of the ocean. ..I can only fathom it was because the size was extrememly intimidating to me, or perhaps, how unsure it seemed; so violent and vast- and it went on forever..
My Dad tried, time and again, to convince me that this foreign concept of an ocean was an okay thing. "Your brother and sister loves it, Ainslee! Why don't you want to go play in it and swim, and laugh, and ride the waves like they are?" ..But everytime Dad walked me to where the ocean met the sand, I began to stubbornly and fearfully scream.
It was taking me in! It was dissolving the earth beneath me! It was burying my feet and trying to pull my little hands out Daddy's! It was strong- stronger than Daddy, and I knew it.
Finally, Dad scooped me up and walked into the ocean with me; I was screaming the entire time. He held me over his head, and above the crashing waves until he walked out far enough into the ocean where it was calm. Then, He gently let me down, eased me into the water, and allowed me to sit on His knee as he embraced my terrified little body.
In that moment, I knew that my Dad loved me, that the ocean wasn't a bad thing- and that's all that mattered.
Mom stood at the shore, and sighed with relief (along with the other beach-dwellers that day of whom I'd been disturbing with my high-pitched little girl scream..) and I knew she was joyed that I had made peace with the big blue thing that was swallowing Daddy and I.
That day, I learned how to swim, ride the gentle waves, and got my very first sand burn. I also fell in love with the ocean. It was one of the very first things I learned to fear and appreciate.
So many times- when I'm struggling- I revert to this moment.
When we reach adulthood, all of the sudden- WE are the ones that are supposed to be fearless and wise. We are supposed to have already done it all and fit right into our place in society. We are supposed to be stronger than heartbreak, and depression, and stupid mistakes.
...But what happens when we aren't? ..What happens when we don't measure up to the expectations of adulthood? ..What happens when we don't even trust enough to let our Father hold our hands as we stand by the shore and feel so small? ..What happens when we don't notice that He is picking us up, and carrying us over the rough waves, only by His strength? ..What happens when we are too stubborn to be content when He places us into His loving arms and cuddles us as we drown in the Ocean of His Grace?
Life isn't always pleasant. Life doesn't always go the way we plan it too. Life isn't always comfortable. But when we notice His grace- His Son suffering tremendously after living the perfect life we are unable to, dying on a cross for our sins, rising again, and gifting those whom believe it with the gift of eternity- how can we NOT be comforted with the fact that the Hands that are Holding the World, are Holding Our Hearts?
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
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