Thursday, October 31, 2013


I’m alone at this beach; it’s an inlet, secluded, but the waves still reach me. For years, I let the waves lap at my feet. I jumped in up to my ankles, getting closer to the waves as they would crash.  Eventually, the call of the water is greater than my fear, so I time it right and get beyond the breaking waves, to the swell of the water. Jumping when the water is low and finding a place where I can touch bottom every so often.  Being there, in the water, is amazing!

But as I get deeper in, I start to get scared. Despite the fact that this perfect love drives out fear, I get spooked.  And so I head back to the shore.  Before long, I am underwater, panicked, and then on the beach, with sand everywhere, panting and scared.

I’ve been tentative since then. Unhappy with the beach and it’s ability to only wet my toes, but how do I get back out there, into that ocean?  I see Him out there, inviting me to come back out.

I wish I were a fish or a mermaid. I wish there was no risk, but the call is strong, and so I’m headed back out.  I know I’m not alone.  


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