Peace In The Deep
There is something soothing about the ocean. Something about the noise it makes as the waves crest and crash into the sand just lulls me into a relaxed sometimes almost catatonic state. The waves just keep coming in rhythmic formation, building, cresting then washing up to the shore, then back to the water. I love watching the ocean, feeling the balmy breeze across my face, and lounging to just get in the water. Soothing, calming, relaxing.
Watching the ocean is therapeutic, but there is always that moment where I no longer want to be a spectator. I no longer want to just listen to the sounds and watch the beauty of the water, I want to experience it. I have to get in. It always starts the same where I walk to the edge of the water and let the waves wash over my feet, feeling the warmth of the sand and the coolness of the water. Slowly, I begin to inch my way in. The deeper the water gets, the more pull the waves have on my body. I find my body fighting to stand, feeling the pull of the water all around me. I look back and see the beach chair I had been sitting in. It looks so peaceful and calm, and in the water, I’m struggling to stay standing.
I can’t fight the pull and the tug any longer and I’m swept off my feet, bobbing and swaying as the waves push me this way and that. Sometimes being buried by the water in an unexpected surge. The waves pull me in different directions and as time goes by I can see the safety of the shore getting further and further away. There’s something almost intoxicating about feeling the water on every inch of my body, something about experiencing every pull and crest of each wave, something invigorating about never knowing what’s coming, and never ever knowing where it’s coming from. But after a time, I get tired. Each crest seems harder on my body, and I worry about withstanding each wave. Each wave feels stronger and heavier than the last.
And in a split second I make a decision. I want to see the entire ocean, feel every sensation it can provide, in a moment I decide…I have to dive in. I don’t know what’s under the surface, but in a moment I realize that I have to know. A funny thing happens when you dive in. The turmoil and push and pull that swept you this way and that is gone. There are no crests to fight, no tide to battle, no unexpected moments of being taken under. When you dive in deep without fear or hesitation, you find yourself in a calm quiet place. You can see things you have never seen before, experience things that from that beach chair so very far away, you didn’t even know existed. When you dive in you get to see part of the ocean that you couldn’t even imagine from that beach chair, a beauty and sense of serenity that can only be felt when you dive in deep.
Some of the best decisions are made in the blink of an eye. Sometimes we just have to dive deep into life, into parenthood, into our jobs and most definitely into love. Love is wonderful when it just washes over our feet and exhilarating when we are swept off our feet then pushed and pulled with all our senses on alert, but experiencing the authenticity and trueness of love requires us to just dive in.
Diving in doesn’t change the ocean. There are still waves and moments when the water changes direction and even moments where you can find yourself in a different direction than you ever imagined, but when you dive in…it’s calm. You know that no matter what is happening on the surface, that you are in the safety and comfort of being in deep.
Just like the ocean, love is always changing. Our relationships never look the same as they did the day before, they are evolving and being shapen by the surface waters and by the Creator of water. Today, I pray that while the waves continue in an unending barrage, that I continue to dive deep. Today I pray that God continues to move me and shape me with each wave and that I’m given peace in the water.