Monday, June 21, 2010

Happy At My Feet



My family knows my favorite place in San Destin- the ocean's edge. I carry my sea blue chair to where the water washes over my toes. And I sit. For hours. Sometimes with a journal. Sometimes with just an open heart.

We've shared a week in Dad's time shares for about ten years. At some point on our trip, a related someone will ask something like, "Why do you enjoy staring at the water for hours on end?"

My mom asked this year. And the best answer ever came to me later.

I love watching happy at my feet... where the water bounces, collides, and forms patterns of lace as quick to vanish as a falling snowflake. Bubbles float. Waves dance. And a smooth, thin rush of water washes gently over my feet, cleansing.

I couldn't sit in my chair as long this year. And the water was full of June grass a few days - even at the water's edge. But last Wednesday, crystal clear waters soothed my soul for a time. God was big. The world beautiful. And eternity real.

And as the sun set, I found this happy at my feet...

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Be Still


I heard a sermon over a week ago that caused me to face the stark level of anxiety in my soul. WordNet.com defines anxiety as "a vague unpleasant emotion that is experienced in anticipation of some (usually ill-defined) misfortune." When I looked deep inside, deeper than my normal deep, I recognized worry, nervousness, and that "vague unpleasant emotion" that fights fear.

As I thought about it all, the still small voice spoke, "Be still..."

I'm not exactly a fast mover these days, but I pick my nails. Almost constantly. Frayed nails expose my anxiety. Just last Sunday, someone commented on the less than desirable state of my ring and pinkie fingers, especially. I smiled. I used to cover them with acrylic nails, but eventually gave up on the beauty routine and prayed for peace. A peace that would show on my nails.

I looked up the Hebrew definition of "still" from Psalm 46. I read, "abate, cease, consume, fail, faint, forsake, idle, leave, let alone..." At the end of the long list of words, small letters referred me to a related definition a few numbers back. There I read, "cure, heal, repair, thoroughly, make whole."

I expected the first list of words, but not the second. They still resonate deep. In stillness there is healing. In letting alone a cure. In ceasing I can be made whole.

Two months of summer lie ahead. I hope within a few weeks to post a photo of healthier nails as I soak in the Psalmist's words, "'Be still and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.'" (Ps. 46: 10)