The Waves, They Carry Me All the Way Home.

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I have exactly ten minutes to write this in the practice of free writing–write, brush the editor off your shoulder, set the timer, go (not to mention that I can hear Mudslides being made in the blender.)

Today we went to the beach and we paddle boarded.  This was not easy, since the waves were rushing in willing any novice on a board from the Midwest to fall over.  But, we prevailed.  I was able to stay up on that board despite the waves that welled and lifted me up, because, I understood them.  Oh, I fell off a few times, and my thighs are KILLING me, but, it’s not mine to overcome the waves, it’s mine to understand that they are a will of Another.

This is how I am with water, and yet, I was raised surrounded by cornfields.  There was no water nearby, yet, when I am by a body of water, I am at peace. When I walk the river paths, my heart is happy. When I ride the waves my face toward the sun, I feel that rhythm in my soul.

Some people would say that is because I am a Pisces.  I dunno.  I DO think there is something to the lunar phases–years of working on the oncology unit will point to something that goes on during the full moon.  And I gravitate toward these things, yet, I would say, that there is a Hand bigger than just the “universe” at play here.

The tide comes in and goes out according to the pull of the moon, but who put the moon into action?

Good question.

In the meantime, after riding the board, I began to swim, and I was riding the waves of the ocean, they swelled under me, they pulled me close, and then pushed me away.  I was at will to their wanting.  I couldn’t hold my hand up and say, STOP!

I tried, they did not.

They swept me up, held me briefly, and then rushed back to the depths of the ocean that have literally never been explored, so deep, so profound, that no human has seen it.

Isn’t that amazing?

My time here is coming to an end with my hubby and our Besties.

The palms trees will whisper that we were here to the waves that carried us at their whim, while we usher in the golden reds of autumn in the Midwest.

I pray that the whispers of the palms and the ocean waves will reach my ears as I sit in the quiet of an autumn dawn.  My heart is alive in the seasons of my youth, and in that ocean of my dreams, and I am blessed to experience it all.

 

 

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