Pier Pilings

The beach has been such a wonderful haven for us this year as we have occasionally needed to escape the confines of the RV to find beauty and breathing room, and never more so than these last few weeks of social isolation. I have always loved the ocean--really, any form of water, even when it's falling out of the sky--and it has always helped me keep my sanity and perspective. Well, as much as that's possible.

This last week, we've been parking ourselves down along the shoreline where an old pier juts out. I used to take the kids to this pier before the hurricane. It was about half a mile from our neighborhood beach, so we'd walk along the shore and then out along its creaking beams until the kids could sit at the end with their legs hanging free over the water while I tried not to have a heart attack that one of them was going to fall off or be eaten by a shark that decided to unexpectedly lunge out of the water. Sometimes while we were there (in between the heart palpitations and panic), I would read out loud to them from whatever book we were enjoying at the time, mostly Prince Caspian and The Just So Stories, if I'm remembering right.

Now, there is no way to walk out on the pier as all the boards were torn loose and flung to kingdom come in a Cat 5 storm. But the bones of the structure still stand and have turned a beautiful sea green that I'm noticing for the first time, now that I'm not so busy walking on it (and trying to keep the kids from falling off of it). The pilings weathered the storm, and it softened and strengthened and stained them a deep and vibrant hue. And they are beautiful, if I can slow down long enough to look at them, and the truth of what they show me is beautiful.

We go to the sea because it is bigger than us. It reminds us that we are small and insignificant and a good storm sweeping down off its surface can do away with us in a moment. And we go to the sea because it is beautiful, and we need the beauty to give us hope and perspective and joy when the struggle threatens to hold us below the surface until we drown. And we go to the sea for air, for deep breaths that fill our lungs and rush out of them full of the tang of salt and water and life.

But now I also ask myself, are my pilings sunk deep into what is solid so that, no matter the storms that come, I can be softened and strengthened and stained with vivid shades of light and water? I want my foundation to be sturdy enough that I'm not blown off by the slightest breeze or even by a category five hurricane, by a cough and a cold or by a global pandemic, by a change in my schedule or a cross country move. And only then do I have the opportunity to be changed for the better by the wind and the waves that wash over me.

Easter Meditation

Easter morning I went for a prayer walk/jog, just trying to catch the sunrise. The half moon held court, fully visible high above my head, but the sun persistently hid behind a thick fleece of clouds that hovered low on the horizon. I pointed my face resolutely towards the east and waited, taking in the slow splash of the surf on the shore, thinking and praying.

Many times we go through life feeling as if the face of Jesus is shrouded in clouds. He feels distant and obscured, and sometimes we despair of seeing his face and begin to doubt his presence. So as I waited for the sunrise, I thought about the obvious similarities, especially with the significance of the day.

As I waited on the sun to rise into my line of sight, I was reminded that the Son has risen even though sometimes it seems the clouds are hiding his face from me. In those moments, what do I choose? To give up and go home? I hope not. I want to choose to wait, pointing my face in the right direction even when all I see are smudges of light that filter through thick clouds. I want to wait and not give up.

And when, while in the fog, I feel discouragement, I look at those of you who, much like the moon, are still reflecting his light. That encourages me. It helps me to keep going. You are a reminder that though my present circumstantial atmosphere may block my view of Christ, his reality is no more dependent on my blue skies than the sun's. And while I wait for the clouds to clear, I can see his presence in your faces. I can hear his truth in your words. I can sense his warmth in your actions. This is one of the reasons we need the church, because while Jesus never leaves or forsakes, there are seasons when it is harder to see his face than others, and if we surround ourselves with others who are looking to him, often we get glimpses of his radiance reflected in their lives, glimpses that we so desperately need.

Easter morning, the clouds cleared for a moment and the sun peaked through. I said thank you for the clouds that made the sun's rays even more brilliant and breath taking, but I also tried to remind myself that, while sometimes the clouds seem to last forever, they will always--eventually--be burned away by the heat of the sun. And while we wait for that day, we point ourselves in the right direction, remind ourselves of what is true, look around at the lovely moons that reflect his radiance, and wait for a break in the clouds.

Love in the Time of Corona

Love is patient; love is kind... but all the togetherness of social isolation has some of us losing our minds. So let me give you a picture of what love can look like when you're trapped with your spouse in a small space for weeks on end:

• Love tracks the shipping on your spouse's coffee order to make sure she doesn't run out at an inopportune moment when she really needs said coffee to get through those last few weeks of homeschooling.
• Love brings home Clorox wipes.
• Alternately, love shares what's left of the bleach with the squadron in an attempt to keep germs from decimating base security, so it's really lucky that he was able to bring Clorox wipes home.
• Love washes hands, washes hands, and washes hands again. And then puts lotion on them because those suckers are dry now.
• Love prioritizes a last minute slap-dash dinner and fitting in a family walk before bed over sticking to the original plan that involved actual adult cooking. This is how sanity is maintained.
• Love uncomplainingly helps you drain the kiddie pool for the fifth day in a row even though said kiddie pool really put the nail in your new identity as trailer trash.
• Love fully supports the purchase of a pair of noise cancelling headphones for telework days because five kids socially isolated in an RV are loud and ain't nobody you're conference calling want to hear that.
• Love trades off who goes grocery shopping so that we both get to take the risk of infection in addition to the reward of getting out of the RV and away from the kids.
• Love orders a surprise lunch for your trapped at home wife so she at least gets to see the delivery driver and eat her feelings in Massaman curry.
• Love brings home Cadbury caramel eggs and a pair of clippers so that military hair can stay in regs even while certain seasonal cravings are being indulged.
• Love takes the whole family on long drives looking for deer so everyone gets a break from the RV for a while and the dog reaches maximum fulfillment.
• Love doesn't mind texting each other from the next room so that whoever is currently getting a break from the kids can enjoy that break to the best of their ability.
• Love celebrates with you when you finally find a bag of Jasmine rice at the grocery store and your inner Asian can stop panicking about running out of rice.
• Love brings home Ben&Jerry's and doesn't even ask to share.

Love shaved off that mustache so I didn't have to look at it all the time.

Right now, love is not extravagant date nights (or even fitting in a quick date lunch). Love is not encouraging girls' nights out or time at the gym. Love is not even long conversations about how your day went (since most days are being spent together). At present, you may feel like your love for each other could use a little space to breathe, but the truth is that what it may need is actually a little creativity. So, while we're all trapped in a glass cage of emotion and the enclosed spaces of our homes, may we think outside the box a little when it comes to our love life and consider how we can creatively show love for each other as well as being on the lookout for the small ways our spouses are already showing love to us that we may not have noticed.