Salt air

I don't know about you, but there have been quite a number of moments during the rollercoaster ride of my life where I have realised (way too late) that a breather; a basic retreat; a chance to 'stop & smell the roses' is a necessity - not a luxury.

That happened to me recently. I realised that if I didn't make some plans I would grind to a screeching halt and stop functioning anyway. I would be no use to myself or the world around me. Nothing had changed to tip me 'almost' over the edge, but I was fighting to get basic errands done. I was fighting to keep my joy.

Walking the dog seemed like a triathalon I couldn't face.

Reading my Bible was an uphill battle as the words tried to swim away.... so much for my speed reading course in Grade 12!

Apathy was creeping into my soul and I didn't know why. It just was.

I also realised that I missed my children.

Between work, school, sports, chores & life's responsibilities I felt I was missing the moments - long uninterrupted moments with my favourite people. I was sure they were growing an inch a week (which would explain the growing food consumption in our home) and the foreboding reality that they will one day leave the nest rang truer with my 18 year old son driving to work every day...

Change doesn't happen until you do something. I just had to open my diary, find a space, and make it happen. So I cancelled a few appointments, made plans to get away & reboot, and then got on with getting through my days.

As my 'getaway' date finally arrived, it turned out I had made a wonderful choice.

I moved to a little granny flat right by the sea, & finally stopped.

Each morning my three boys & I walked the winding path that led to the beach. As soon as the water was in view they sprinted away & left me to my mountain of thoughts.

I walked slowly along the waters edge and breathed the salt air deep into my lungs. It felt good.

I sat down and stared at the water lapping the sand - back and forward, back and forward - a rhythmic beat of the sea set in place since the world began - erasing footprints of the past; cleansing debris, seaweed, froth & bubble; healing...

I thought about how much I try to slow down, and how often I fail.

If there were two things I wanted to learn it was this: 1) the art of stopping 2) The art of hearing.

You can't hear if you don't stop.

Listening is a wonderful character attribute which I feared I was losing.

I watched my boys shrieking in the water & having sand fights, running like boys should, free & wild.

There were no time limits. I stayed as long as I wanted to & took in the blues of the sea & peacefulness of the rippling sand, laced with the most perfect groups of sand balls circling little holes. Home for little white crabs.

Days passed quietly. We read books. We played games and painted on canvases. I made dinner slowly, & ate slowly - enjoying every mouthful.

Deep in my soul I was beginning to listen and contemplate what I had.

Small is big, when you think about it. Small things are important.

The ability to see; to breathe; to stop. The kisses on a child's cheek. Smiles of encouragement. The prayers of a mother. The memories of a special day. The dreams of tomorrow.

It is so easy to get so caught up in the day to day 'doings' that we forget how lavishly blessed and wonderfully loved we really are....

The salt air was doing me good, as I realised on the sixth day. My heart was beginning to sing.

Every colour of dusk was intrinsically wonderful to me. The burnt orange of the sunset. The deep grey of the clouds. I stood with the sand squidging between my toes and took in as much as I could, because tomorrow I was going home.

I wanted to breathe in the memory of this moment and keep it forever.

As I lay on the sand and took a photo of the clouds, a thought popped into my head that this cloud formation would never look like this again. I was more than likely the only person in the world to take it in, and appreciate its wonder.

So I lay and took it in, until another thought joined my first one.

I realised that I can go home and have this too. I can walk outside and see the colours of dusk. I can look up and see glimpses of heaven. My seaside retreat reminded me that I have what I need at home.

I have the sustainer of life within me. He is everywhere - not just at the sea.

So with that simple revelation dancing in my heart, I soon packed up, and a very relaxed, sunkissed me once again decided to make the most of the moments. I won't just live from one break to the next.

I will cherish today today and think about tomorrow...tomorrow.

I will breathe in the air and thank God that I can breathe it in, whatever its fragrance.

I will stop (wherever I am) more and I will listen (wherever I am) more.

And I will get on with living.

PS Although (I just have to say) my week by the sea to 'stop and smell the salt air' was very good. As good as medicine for the soul!