I used to think that God lived at the beach. I used to think that it was the only place that I could really find Him, and see His handiwork, and be still before Him. It probably started back in the days before I really knew Him, where under an altered influence I would sit on the beach and stare at the night sky, feeling the pulse of the universe around and through me. NOT exactly the best way to hear from the Sovereign God, by the way, but at the time I thought it worked just fine.

So now, here I am, years later, and I still think that the best place to find God is at the beach. My bags are packed, I'm ready to walk out the door, and yet, something is stopping me. Oddly enough, I think it's God.

But if God lives at the beach, and I am going there to find more of Him again, why in the world would He stop me? Why would He reach out and place His hand on my heart and say, no, not now? I thought His address was like 333 Holiness Way, Ocean Place, or something like that.

I believe what He is speaking to my heart at this very moment is this: I can be found anywhere. There is no special magical place where I dwell on earth, other than your heart, through My Spirit in you. And that should be enough.

and it is.

But it sure is hard listening to Him sometimes. I am packed. I am ready to go. And He is saying no. Most of you, like the two of you who read this, may think, um, she's crazy. God doesn't care about stuff like that. But He does. And I have walked with Him long enough to know that listening to Him, as hard as it may be, is the only choice to make at a time like this. It's not easy. But it's best.

so if you live near the ocean, please tell it hi for me, I miss it fiercely. And hopefully I'll see it again, sooner than later. But until then, I will remain landlocked here in tennessee, in hopes that listening to God is better than any pounding surf or the feel of the sand between my toes, better than the warmth of the sun, the smell of the sea air, and the joy of bounding through the water like a dolphin. He is better by far. I'm just glad I still know how to listen.

and what's next? I don't know. But I will walk by faith, and not by sight, and trust His plan will always be immeasurably better than my own.

right now, though, I'm going to Starbucks. <3

funny how I always have so much to say and when i go to write I can't find any words. It's the same with music lately, I have so much music that needs words, and I can't find any. None. So I'm going to the beach. to the ocean. to say hi to God, and spend some time with Him in front of one of the most beautiful and expansive things He has ever made. I love it. i love the smell, the sounds, the feel, all of it. and it's time. It's been too long. So if you need me, that's where you will find me, in the surf, in my chair, or just rolling around in the sand like a child, enjoying the pure joy of being alive. Don't know if I'll be gone for a week or 6 months, but I'm just going. not to stay, but to go. Life is too short. so...see you in a few...

Been over a year since I had anything to write. Don't really know why. It's not that life hasn't been happening, but, maybe like John Mayer, I've fallen out of love with everyone needing to know what I'm thinking. Difference between him and me is people actually read what he writes, but the points the same. :) I don't know, I like writing, I do, but lately I've been doing most of it with a pen and paper, and doing it just for me. and it's been nice.

the world is falling apart...

and upstairs, the world is, indeed, falling apart. Two little boys, both of whom are so excited to see their aunt jenny, are being forced to retire from the world at large much sooner than either of them would have really liked, and they are making it known with great strength and gusto. It's 9:55, much later than most children go to bed, at least on a normal night, but that just doesn't matter right now, for the only thing that really matters is that they are NOT ready for bed, and all else be, well, you know.

Sigh. I am like that all the time. I want my way. I want things to be as I would like them to be, as I would like the world to function and operate, and alas, it seldom does. I am selfish to the core of who I am, and it is beautifully telling to see myself in the form of a 2 and 4 year old, and I love that God loves me enough to daily open my eyes to my great dependency and need of Him in my life. A surrendered and submissive life. A hard walk, but a good one none the less.

time for family. I love this part of the night, just me and my sister and my brother in law, sitting in front of the fire, living and doing life together. It really doesn't get much bettter than this. night!

I have forgotten...

how much I love to write. I say it a lot, but never seem to remember it. I want to this time.

I found this on a previous blog, and thought it appropriate for when my heart is at the moment. Been learning a lot of lessons, and truth gained through pain is always more rewarding in the end, no matter how much it hurts in the interim.

and right now, it just still hurts.

perspective is a wonderful thing. It is the thing that gives us the ability to press on when everything inside of us says, no more, I can take, no more. It is the thing that allows us to see the world and our lives from another angle, another view, and walk away encouraged and strengthened. I think that it is sometimes like seeing the ocean from far away, from a cliff or a mountain, and then a few short hours later finding yourself sitting on its shore. The thing that seemed so massive and cold from far away suddenly becomes a place of solace and rest, and warmth and peace. Instead of being overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the ocean, you sit, comforted by the sound of the waves, and the smell of the sea, and you feel nothing but safe. This massive thing, the ocean, able to kill thousands without warning, has now, from this perspective, become your best friend and safest ally.

I think God is a lot like the ocean. From far away, He is scary, and big, and completely and utterly overwhelming, but from close up, from the shore, He is the safest thing in the world. He is the sound of the ocean, the smell of the sea, the playfulness of the surf, and the stillness of the morning sunrise. He is the best of everything that the ocean has to offer, the warm water splashing on your legs as your toes curl around the sand, the stillness of the twilight when everyone else has gone home and there is only you and the seagulls finding their dinner in the surf, the dolphins playing in the waves, and the last glimpse of light as the sun sets below the horizon. He is all these things and more.

But we tend to miss all these things, both about the ocean and about God. I remember one time at the beach, the woman on the blanket next to me yelled out to her husband, "Turn up the radio! I can't hear it over the sound of the waves!" In order to really see the ocean for what it is, an invitation to grace, we have to be still enough to hear the call. We have to be willing to stop everything else that a day has to offer, and just be still, and know. Know what? That this massive thing, this great expanse, this unknowable and uncontainable, uncontrollable and unfathomable being, is also a place where we, where I have meaning, where the trivial things of this world fade away, and the only thing I want is to hear the sound of the waves over the sound of anything else. It is a place where I am safe, where I am surrendered to the things around me, willingly, and all I long for is the first light of day, the first sound of the morning, the smell of the water, the salty air in my lungs, the sand around my toes, and to know that I am free, and that I am safe, even in a place that really isn't safe at all.

I think it's a bit like in 'The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe', when Lucy asks the Beavers if Aslan is safe.
"Then he isn't safe?" said Lucy.
"Safe?" said Mr. Beaver. "Don't you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you."

No, God is not safe, but He is good. I think, though, that most of us, and I include myself in this, tend to see Him from far away and think, I will never understand that, I will never fathom who He is or what He is, and in our frail and human sinfulness stop there. We never come down off the cliffs, and instead content ourselves with knowing that He is there. We never really stop to think about what it would be like to walk with Him, to really talk with Him, not just because He is so powerful and worthy, but because He is good.

I miss the ocean. I miss the sand around my toes, the water splashing against my feet, wrapping itself around me, and drawing me in. I miss the sounds, the smells, and the feel of who I am when I am there. I miss being at peace with the world around me, and knowing that I am part of a greater whole that is so much bigger than anything I wil ever understand, but that as I surrender to it, it saves me, by grace, by a greater grace than that of human words or understanding, but of a still small voice that just says, come.

I miss God.

I'm pretty excited about the things I am learning at the moment. Good lessons, and ones that I probably need refresher courses in as well. I miss God. Guess He knows that too.

Sigh. Seriously. why is sometimes doing the right thing the hardest thing of all? Where it's the one thing you know that you want to do but the one thing you know you just need to not do?

sometimes being alive is just a bit hard. Breathing air. just in and out. unless you are upside down in a kayak, and then you really can't breath at all.

right now I think I just need to go to bed.

so I am going.