I wrote this post (well, a version of it anyway) a while ago, June 29th, to be exact. I woke up that day with a vivid memory of my childhood. It made my life make sense...a little. So I painstakingly spent hours retelling the story, making the analogy make sense and double checking my grammar, etc. Then at the completion, feeling I had duly explained the trials of my life and my outlook on life to my limited readers (and for posterity)...I clicked the "PUBLISH" button and got the horrible message that blogger was unable to reach the server. After a momentary panic, I remembered that blogger auto-saves every few minutes anyway...so I was fine, right?! WRONG!!! Nothing at all had been saved and all my hard work had been DELETED! Frustrated and defeated, I turned off the computer and could not fathom trying to share what was going on in any other way. I still can't figure out any other way...so I attempt now to relay what I had so beautifully written 3 months ago.
Part of me prefers to pick up right here, right now and pretend that those horrible months just didn't happen. However, the other part of me wants me to remember forever those months and how much the Lord remains beside us during our most trying and difficult moments. Of course, this is all in hindsight now and when I initially wrote this...I had no comprehension of how it would all work out.
I had a flashback....of back when I was a little girl. My grandparents owned a beach house on Myrtle Beach and from the time I can remember we would go there every summer for several weeks. In my flashback, I could hear the seagulls and the waves crashing. I could smell the salty mist, the beach-stand popcorn, and the musty smell of the beach house. I could taste the frozen lemonade, the salt dripping off my lips, and M&M's (our family's beach staple!). It was so vivid; so real.
My grandparents' beach house was one block off the beach. I can remember waking up bright and early, grabbing my swimsuit, shoveling in a piece of toast (or whatever else Mom said qualified as "breakfast") and begging to head down to the beach. We would stay out there all day long. It never got old; I loved it.
One of my favorite memories was of the water. I loved making sandcastles and digging for sand crabs, too, but my favorite thing was swimming out beyond the waves and floating on my back. My grandfather was an avid swimmer. Many mornings, he would be the first one out in the water and he would swim several miles from one pier to the other and back. Then he would stop, turn onto his back and float. I took pride in being able to swim out right by him, in water far over my head, and roll over on my back right next to him and float.
Lying out there on my back - the sounds were muffled, the warm sun grazed my body, the gulls squawked around me and the occasional beach aircraft soared by advertising some beach side sale. Time stood still - in essence. Life was perfect. My grandpa taught me how to completely relax out there. He taught me how to trust the water to carry me and I was always amazed at how amazing it felt to ride the "swell" up and then back down. That was my favorite thing. Whether I was floating on my back or just treading water, I loved the little ups and downs of the swells. They were relaxing and exhilarating at the same time. I would have been content out there forever.
But of course, I had that pesty uncle that would just never let me be! I think his life's mission was to get me out of my comfort zone and TORTURE me! He was not the type to "ride the swells." No way! His mission at the beach was to ride the waves! No matter how many times I protested or how content I proclaimed to be, he would relentlessly torment me until I would reluctantly swim over beside him and attempt to ride the wave.
Attempt is the key word here. Let me explain. I hate the feeling of sand "all up in" my swim suit. I hate going head over heels in the water and then crashing up against a sand bar with your shoulder or head, or any other unfortunate body part. And most of all, I hated giving my control up to that darn wave. I dreaded riding one of those waves in because I never knew what would happen. But... like the good sport that I pretend to be...I would always go "give it a whirl." At first, I WOULD get tossed and crumbled by that darn wave and I would get so frustrated. But that unrelenting uncle of mine would have me back out beside him in a jiffy. And after a little pep talk and a shove, I was back out there again. Only this time, I was a little more determined and a little more committed. Oh, there would be time after time that I would get crushed to smithereens and I would surface not knowing up from down...but every once in a while, I would catch that wave and ride it all the way in. And as I triumphantly hit that beach and turned, throwing my fists in the air, I would always see my uncle, fists also held high in the air, saying he always knew I could do it. And darn it...if I didn't grab my board and head right back out there to do the whole silly thing again. And the annoying/funny thing is this...when summer ended and "life" began again, I didn't remember the hours I spent lying on my back in the swells. Instead, I relished the tormenting tumbles I took before finally "owning" that beach.
And I guess this is my point... my life these last couple months has been so much like that beach. We have enjoyed so many days, months, years - really, where I have been able to lie on my back and relax as the day-to-day trials of life took me up and down. Despite and through it all, I stayed on top and enjoyed my journey. My heart ached for others as I watched them get tossed and tumbled and come up more "sand-bogged" than I could ever imagine. And then it happened to me...like it or not, but most definitely not willingly, it was my turn to get off my back and quit floating. It was time to hit the waves. For a while there, I was getting nowhere. I was stuck in that wave that kept flipping me upside down and heaven knows I had no idea which was was up or down! Thankfully, instincts and faith kicked in. I'd been here before and I knew who I could look to for encouragement and hope and I knew that eventually, just like the darn lesson I'd learned on that beach all those years ago, I would come cruising into the beach with my arms raised in triumph and I would look back to see that someone had always known I could do it.
As I wrote this 3 months ago, I was still in the middle of that wave. I had the wind knocked out of me and I was sitting there on my board waiting for the next wave that I knew was inevitably coming for me. The thing that I realized as I wrote that night was that, darn-it-all, if I didn't know that at the end of all this, I was going to be just like that girl in my childhood, grabbing my board and running back out to have another go of it. That night I knew it would all be alright. I knew I would survive. I knew I would grow. And I knew I would end up stronger, smarter and more able to face the "waves" the next time.
And so here I am now. The waves have passed, for now and I have doggy-paddled my way right back out to the swells. I'm taking deep breaths, noticing all the beauty and the miracles around me and I am overwhelmed with gratitude. I DID ride those waves and I "owned" them. Sure, I got banged up, sand-bogged, and swallowed a lot of water, but eventually, I made it through. And now that I look back, good grief, I guess I can honestly say I'd do it all again. I think I always believed that in the end, it would all work out - that I'd be grateful for the trialsr, but man alive is the journey harder than seems endurable some times.
I'm just so grateful for the sweet assurance I had that night that reminded me that I am strong and that I knew I could do it. It's funny the way life's lessons teach us.
Writers note: Now that I explained that whole story, I guess I'd better explain what happened. The last week of March, just before our 5K, Cole was called in for a meeting. Not saying anything at all, they handed him a letter letting him know that he would be laid off. No words were exchanged; just a letter. After 11 years as a golf professional and 6 years at this particular course, he was let go...just like that. Now, I know that this is happening to lots of people right now and in some ways, that did make it a little easier...but it was still ground-shaking. The hardest part was not panicking and trusting the Lord to help us figure out the path He wanted us on. We vacillated between anger, denial, defeat and determination. Every day was different and a lot of times, Cole and I were at different points at the same time. For a while, we tried to fight the city on their decision. After all, he wasn't lowest in seniority, he'd had great evals and all of the costumers loved him. But they said they didn't have to have a reason and his boss had picked him to let go. Yeah, that made it really easy to swallow. The worst thing was that he had to continue working for them until June 30th. Can you imagine knowing that your boss picked YOU to lay-off and then having to go work beside him for 3 more months? I don't think I could have done it. We started looking immediately for others jobs, but needless to say, Cole was reluctant to head right back into the golf business. We felt like it would all work out, but just weren't sure how. Our main concern was insurance, especially since my family is one of those that just can't go without it! Long story short, it was a really long 3 months. We decided to let things settle for a while and work on having Cole grow our business and having me go back to work at the hospital part-time so I could get insurance. Having decided that, and being so grateful I had my RN to fall back on, you'd think things would have been easy. Wrong! First of all, I looked forever trying to find jobs with no luck and then, when I found one, I found (and got) 5! Cole was offered several different jobs, some even in golf again, by people who knew and loved him. It was such a challenge having faith and waiting for that knowledge that we were both making the right choice for us and our family. But in the end, we were lead to the right thing. I picked an amazing job. I am working 2 days a week in the Same Day Surgery department at the hospital and I LOVE it! We are only open M-F and are closed on holidays, which is AWESOME! Cole decided to focus on our business for now and enjoy a little more time at home. He is coaching the boys in baseball and going on field trips and he and Alli are doing all kinds of fun things on the days mommy's at work! Our business has grown a ton and in fact, Cole is almost too busy again, which is a mixed blessing:) We are still adjusting and the hardest part is just trying to recognize all the positives and the blessings and trying not to be bitter and resentful. We have been very blessed and in many ways, I think life now is probably better than it would have been if we had just kept going down the same old path! Who knows, maybe change is a good thing?! Haha!
Having said all that ... I promise I will try to do a little catch up and stay more current on my blogging;) , so there aren't any more massive posts to read!
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