Drowning in the Ocean

(Sorry for the mess-up; this post was actually written on Monday, June 6, 2011)

When I was a little girl,

we lived near the coast in New England;

we used to spend

many summer days at the beach.

I loved to swim in the ocean,

especially when the tide was high.

The waves would carry us along

high up into the air and then down into the wake of the next.

I was always afraid to touch the ocean floor with my feet,

fearing crabs would snatch my toes;

sometimes, though, we'd dare each other

so we could see how deep it was.

Gulping air,

we'd shuttle ourselves down

on the ebb of a wave

and sometimes my toes would sink in soft sand

while other times I'd feel the rounded edges of fist-sized rocks.

It was exhausting swimming in the ocean.

The rocking of the waves pushed us away along the coast line

and we had to constantly swim back to where we started,

or get out and walk the distance.

But the combination of the cold sea,

the sand,

the screeching gulls and sound of the surf,

it was enough to spur us on to the constant activity in the sea

unaware of how exhausting it all was.

The life we had in the sea was incredibly fun.

We'd only stop to gobble down half a sandy sandwich

under the beach umbrella where mom and our friends' mother

sat chatting and adding their laughter

to all the other umbrella's that dotted the bucket and shovel-laden

landscape.

Our shivering bodies and chattering teeth

were quickly soothed on soft beach towels

baking in the hot sun.

Then we'd dart back into the foaming waters,

beginning the bobbing process all over again.

I can remember on an occassion

being out in the water

and suddenly feeling like I was too far out.

I became aware of how tired I had gotten,

and the splashing waves had gagged me once too many times

with it's salty attempts to quench my thirst.

My friends splashed at me, laughing,

not realizing I was struggling,

and then swam away.

Help seemed too far for reach.

I waved to those on the beach,

and they waved back,

smiling.

It was at this point that I also remembered that

I was swimming alone

and perhaps a hungry shark would enjoy my 

panicked, tired thrashing about.

I've felt like this in my life lately.

I don't know if you could tell by my blogs,

but I've been out to sea.

I've struggled with being tired,

feeling overwhelmed with life,

the little things.

I feel as though I give and give to my children,

work around the house,

work outside,

clean and cook,

argue with my stressed and overwhelmed husband

who is beset by ripened hay fields,

steer ready to be butchered,

bulls that need to be castrated,

trees fallen in stormy gales,

and a slew of immediate needs.

Somedays, I never seem to get anywhere.

It's exhausting.

I've read my Bible

and begged for strength,

for encouragement to press on...

 

to see the shore again.

I go to church

with my meager offerings of what I am able to do right now.

I wrestle with myself,
wishing I could do more,
wanting not to be misunderstood,

making me weary

because my works that are seen by men,
I think to myself,

aren't good enough.

I leave feeling as though I've been splashed in the face

while I am drowning.

I watch my child deal with

situations,

and find myself using the scorn that she faces

to try to teach her what real kindness is,

trying to help her see

that God's love is different

and can't always be seen in Christians

because man is sinful.

I feel bothered by a situation amongst friends

that badger

and seems like mole-hills made into mountains.

I see hurt feelings all around

that make me angry:

misconstrued situations,

hidden frustrations.

Everyone wants their own rights

but nobody is sure who really has any rights at all.

It's incredibly hurtful.

Life has suddenly become hard.

But God is not unfaithful.

I went away this weekend to see my first nephew celebrate

his graduation from high school.

A lot of circumstances came up to prevent me from going,

but I was desperate to go,

to get away, 

to be a part of this special event.

During the ceremony,

Jordan's paternal grandfather spoke.

He gave to Jordan verses and tips from the Bible

and from life

to guide him in his next steps of life.

They fed my weary soul as well.

"We can choose the decisions that we make in life,

but we cannot chose the consequences."

"If God wanted Paul to minister in our world today,

or Billy Sunday, 

or Charles Spurgeon,

or Moody,

he would have them alive today.

But he doesn't.

He chose us to be alive today,

he chose us to be His light

and do His work

for this moment."

"God does not want us just to have the heart of a servant.

He wants us to have the mindset of a servant.

The mind has to chose to serve,

even when we feel like we've run out of the heart too,

even when we feel like we've hit the point

that says,

'Enough is enough;

I'm done.'

The servant's mind never sees a quitting point.

It serves even when 

the circumstances are against it's service."

When I was out in the ocean

feeling as if I was drowning,

I'd always hear my father's words to me

ringing in my head:

"When you feel tired out in the water,

relax,

calm down,

lean back and float.

Lying on your back

you can paddle toward where you need to go

without exhausting yourself,

while resting.

When you float and let the sea carry you

you can guide your body in the right direction

and use your strength to paddle the right way

rather than wrestle the water

that is sure to overwhelm you.

When you relax and enjoy the sky,

you will get the energy back that you need."

And I know he would give me the same advice

in my spiritual need as well.

Looking up brings rest.

I can paddle toward the things that I need to do

never losing a servant's mindset,

but realizing I can't always get it all done,

I can't fix everything,

I can't heal pain,

I can't please everyone.

Looking up redirects the focus off the shore 

off the people who don't mean to misunderstand

or to be misunderstood.

I just need to look up

where the help is

and keep paddling.

I am thankful for the God who gives His words of comfort

when the weary call out to Him in need.

 "I had fainted,

unless I had believed to see the goodness of the LORD

in the land of the living.

Wait on the LORD: be of good courage,

and he shall strengthen thine heart:

wait,

I say,

on the LORD."

Psalm 27:13-14