So rather than attempt to dissect the random, large collection of shopping bags scattered about on the floor of my living room; I made the executive mom decision to pack up and hit the beach with some friends yesterday.
I'd like to say I've become somewhat of a beach day-tripper, level: expert over the past couple summers. From getting the entire crew up, ready, and out the door in under 30 minutes, to our minimalist approach to beachy accouterments, to making sure that we don't bring half of the coastline back with us in our freshly vacuumed mom-mobile {thank you, hubby, for keeping Frosty clean!}. Yesterday was really no different; and with 6 capable kiddos between my sweet friend and me; we moms were set up and in relax mode in record time.
I don't know that there's one iota of my soul that doesn't cross into that magical space between heaven and earth when I smell the salty air, hear the surf, and observe the sheer magnificent beauty and rhythm of waves as they find own way to kiss the coastline. It's like sitting right alongside God himself and with an affirmative nod of the head, mirroring his reaction to His creation.
It is GOOD.
And oh, is it ever.
The ebb and flow of the waves mimicked the way in which my friend and I interacted with the kids all day. They flowed in for sunscreen, snacks, and silly stories; and ebbed back out for all of their sand-and-salt activity. A perfect balance of parenting and friending that filled our souls.
At one particular 'flow'; our bookends; my youngest and my friend's oldest; came dashing up the beach with their floats and the excited squeals that could only mean they've come across some kid-version of treasure.
And there it was. Just over a foot long, shining in the sunlight, unmoving. A sand trout, according to my dear friend with far greater fishing experience than I {granted: my experience? does shopping for goldfish at Pet Smart count?}.
Our girls were pretty thrilled to have found this gem from the deep; and as it lay there in the float, we all noticed it's gills straining ever so slightly, gasping for air. Or, I guess it would be gasping for water? I know. I won't be adding 'angler' to my resume any time in the near future ever.
When it became obvious that the fish might still have a fighting chance, they dashed to the water in heoric form and, for the next nearly 20 minutes, my friend's sweet oldest daughter tried guiding that fish, holding it while she swam it along in the water, devoting all of her attention to giving that fish a second chance at life in the Gulf of Mexico.
Alas. It became evident {more quickly to us moms than that precious preteen, but bless her heart for her efforts} that the 'treasure' discovered along the calm of the waves was in fact not going to make it. Sadly, the sand trout was returned to the surf, destined to make some salty scavengers very happy.
On the ride home, my ever-inquisitive, bleeding heart youngest daughter pelted me with questions about that fish. Why and how and where and when and what until I finally promised her ice cream if she would let me drive in peace. {In related news: I'm running for mom of the year}
But as the peace that quickly ensued after my frozen dairy promise took hold in my heart, I found my thoughts turning back to that stinkin' fish. Back to the time and tender effort that my friend's daughter dedicated to trying to get it to swim. I thought about that point when she realized it was a lost cause, and that there was nothing left to do but to return the fish to the place from whence it came and move forward.
What a hard decision. That point when you are smacked with reality, gut-wrenching and heart-breaking, scary and uncertain; that place of 'what now' that alters how you're going to move forward.
For our girls, it was in the form of a fish. A scaly representation of God's work that was transitioning into a new season of purpose: food.
Not long ago, that 'what now' place in our marriage came after months and months of endless fights, tears, anxiety, heartbreak, and broken trust that had spun into a tornado that honed in on the very sanctity of our marriage, our family, and the home we had made from the house we were {still--and forever will be} paying mortgage on.
When the sand trout showed up in our marriage, the reverberations were heavy, hard, and HUGE. The pain was real, the mass of feelings warped realities and rattled every component of what we clung to. There it lie, shining brightly and aggressively in the sunlight {and the darkness--it never went away}, unmoving. There were gasps for air, subtle movement of gills that beckoned for answers and comfort and help and prayers. Oh, the prayers.
Over the course of the days and weeks and months; prayers held on to us, swam us along in the water. They guided and protected and righted and healed, albeit in the most rogue, God-like of ways. The day-to-day; it felt eternal. Some days the supports were prevalent; but many days felt a lot like floating along, belly-up, at the mercy of the under toe.
Alas. It became evident that this marriage, this foundation and family and life we had once known, was in fact not going to make it. We'd reached that point where we were faced with returning our dead fish to the place from whence it came and move forward.
And so we did. {kind of}. We spoke the words {at several different points}. We let the reality set in as best it could and began to try and craft some sort of semblance for what we would need/do/say in order to take those next steps. The fear gripped, the tears fell, the truth stung. We'd failed. Moreso, *I* had failed. I took a creation, a gift from God, and rather than foster it and grow it and build it; I stamped upon it. And then I tried like hell to glue it all back together again, to sit down beside the Creator, and tell Him it was good.
But oh, it wasn't good.
See, what I now realize in that time of swimming along in the water is that while yes, the prayers of many were what strengthened us 'just enough' to keep moving through the surf; the reality was that instead of misleading ourselves into thinking we had a chance, the reality is we needed to take our dead fish and give it back. Not because we were giving up; but because we know that ultimately, in the giving back, we would be giving life to something else. Something more. Something better. Something stronger. In the giving back, we would be taking our control out of the marriage and giving it to the One who is the more. the better, the stronger.
Giving the control to Him; truly laying face down in the war room and staining the floor with mascara as I lay it all at the cross was like taking that fish and tossing it into the uncertainty of the seas. The under toe had all the power, the body of the fish limp and unresistant to whatever forces were upon it. When the moment of impact came; when the body of what was our marriage hit the proverbial water, God had all the power {umm...fun fact: He actually had the power all along *wink, wink*}, the body and spirit limp and unresistant to whatever forces were upon it. That place. That lowest, hit-the-ground, punch in the gut, energy-sucking moment where you just can't even.
That's the place where He steps in and does his most miraculous work. Where He takes the body that is dead and breathes new life so that it can be a living, breathing representation of God's work that transitioning into a new season of purpose: a marriage of more, better, stronger.
For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts. “For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it. ~Isaiah 55:8-11
Who knows, maybe that little sand trout has changed my tune toward dabbling in the sport of fishing. So long as Randy is there to bait the hook, that is...
xo
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