Allowing the Tides to Turn(Because They Will Whether I Want Them to or Not)

As I sit here looking out upon the Pacific, I try gathering up the energy to pull on some jeans so that I can go down to the beach for a walk.

It is best to do it now, because although I tell myself that I will, I most likely will not make it down to the sand if I wait until later.

It is best that I do it now, because when the tide begins to turn, the waves often become erratic and unpredictable.  And although I know that I should never turn my back on the ocean, I sometimes become so absorbed in my searches for sea glass that I end up getting soaked.

There is a rhythm to the waves as they flow in and out, in and out.

It is a rhythm that can hypnotize the soul.

It is a rhythm that can put the mind at ease.

But it is also a rhythm that can change within the blink of an eye.

As I walk along the shoreline, I am often reminded that I do not have to be in control.

That I can sometimes just allow myself to be carried along with the rhythm of the sea.

That when I think that I am in control, some rogue wave will come crashing up onto the sand splashing icy-cold saltwater all over my clothes, leaving me to slosh around in drenched sneakers the rest of my way home.  The saltwater stings my skin.  Another admonition for believing that I might really have some control over the rhythm of the waves.

Or the tides of my life.

I am alone, right now.  My family is scattered about in various locations.  Work, school, out with boyfriends.  My favorite faded-out jeans beckon to me from the edge of the bathtub.

Knowing that the tide will soon turn whether I want it to or not, I will lazily step into my jeans.  I will obey the rhythm as it lures me down to the sea.  And the tide will turn because that is what it does.  Never exactly in the same way or at the same time each day.  Never precisely with the same cadence as the tide before, but turn it will.

And for today, I will relinquish control because tides turn whether I want them to or not...

And I only get soaked when I think that I know exactly what I am doing.


*Welcome lovely SkyWatchers!  I look forward to seeing what you have posted this week.  For those of you who are unfamiliar with SkyWatch, please click on the link to view some wonderful photos from around the world.

The Things Which Help us Through

After so many of us received such incredibly sad news recently, about the passing of CJ Twomey, it is hard to know where to begin again.  The crushing news of the death of this twenty year old airman has left a huge hole in the hearts of so many, but especially his mom, Hallie, his dad, John and his younger brother, Connor.  CJ was a hero in life and he remains one in death, as his parents made the heroic decision to donate CJ's organs to save the lives of many, many others.  56 individuals will directly benefit from Hallie and John's brave decision.  Countless others will have another day with someone they love because of their incredible gift of life.  If you have a moment, please stop by Hallie's blog and leave her a note of support.

So the reason behind indulging myself with the photos of these gorgeous, little flower girls is because life must go on.  Mark, myself, our Angel Daughters, and their boyfriends attended the wedding of my oldest friend's second daughter, this past weekend.  Donna and I have known each other since we were twelve years old.  We have remained constant in each other's lives throughout so much.  This is something that becomes more and more important to me with each passing year because Donna knows my history and I know hers.  We can say to one another, "Do you remember when..." and we do.  I know that most of us could use a dose of life affirmation, right now, so please enjoy.

Donna's grandbaby(the angel on the left, my little great-niece number one) just turned two.  Her beautiful cousin is three and a half.  Notice who is leading the way...

Oh no, looks as if somebody has an itch!

No problem!  By the way, you must look at the top of these photos at the adults who are behind the fence watching the girls.  Priceless!

Somebody is not moving fast enough...

Uh-oh!

There she goes on her own!

But her cousin catches up.

She becomes fascinated by the candle.

And the flower petals...

They made it that whole way!

Grandma shows them where to go next, as the proud groom stands by waiting for his lovely bride.

My beautiful little great-niece finds the most comfortable spot possible.  Her daddy's lap.

Love and blessings to all,
Debbie

Hope Rolls

The words "I'm starting to lose hope." tumbled roughly out of my mouth just at the precise moment that my husband bent down to retrieve it.  We were sea glass hunting on a beach in San Clemente.  We were walking through a large patch of sea-worn stones talking and searching for the glimmers of green, cobalt blue and weathered whites amongst the copious numbers of rocks which had washed up onto the sand.  I was trying to make sense of a situation that makes very little sense, but it also appeared to be a poor day for recovering any sea glass.  Where exactly the loss of hope was emanating from was a bit unclear.  Just as the word hope made its way past my lips(to God's ears, as they say), Mark knelt down and pointed to it.  And as my eyes focused upon the light blue sea glass marble which he was pointing to, they skipped past it to the second one that was resting only several inches away.

There, in the pile of anonymous grey and black rocks, sat two tiny orbs weathered by sand and saltwater just waiting to restore hope in two wandering hunters.  I rocked back on my heels from the squatting position that I sat transfixed in and sat down on the beach.  I placed my elbows down on my knees and rested my chin in my hands.  Unbridled laughter rose up from my heart and I shook my head.  In my entire sea glassing life of almost two years, I have retrieved only one and a half sea glass marbles amongst the pounds of mermaid tears and weathered glass bits.  One and a half.  And now, on this day of broken hope, there sat two perfect marbles from times gone by.

I scooped them up and handed them to my husband.  He examined them with curiosity and then handed them back to me.  I let them roll around in my palm as I gazed out upon the vastness of the ocean.  How much is out there to be retrieved just when the timing is perfect?  Do we sometimes miss the answers because we are so wrapped up in the questions?

I reached my hands up towards my husband and he pulled me to my feet.  I tucked the marbles into my pocket and then hugged onto my beloved husband with a renewed fervor.  We headed back to meet our oldest Angel Daughter for dinner along another half mile stretch of beach.  Hope rolled around in my mind, heart and pocket with each step.

Neither one of us came across another piece of sea glass that day.

The DNA of the Soul

*Welcome Skywatch friends!  Thank you for stopping by.  I look forward to visiting you, too!

A glimpse of inspiration soared past my line of vision as I looked towards the sky for answers.  For those of you who know me and those of you who might be new here(Welcome!) or just passing through(Hi there!), you may have noticed an ongoing theme in many of my writings.  Flight.  The absolute need for my spirit to soar.  The absolute desire to watch my Four Angel Daughters to own the wings that were given to them well before birth.  And the joy that I receive from hearing about your flight patterns.

We all have one, you know.  A certain flight pattern which is imbedded within us, sort of like the DNA of the soul.  And it is up to us to create the journey that can best lead us to being our highest self.  It is like an agreement between us and The Universe(God, Adonai, Buddha, Jesus...).  An unwritten promise to use this life, to elevate.  To become more.  To help one another to become more.  To accept our positions as both teacher and student.

As I conclude the week that has passed, and anticipate the one which lies ahead, I am being forced to  stare my flight pattern squarely in the eye.  I have chosen a course of action which was mine alone, to choose, but I suspect that in many ways, this is how things were meant to be.  I cannot deviate from what has been imprinted upon the DNA of my soul.  It is what makes me who I am.  It is what makes you who you are.  And when our paths cross, sometimes the differences are what will come together to create a commonality.  Or not.  But still, it is up to us, each one of us, to fly as high as we can.  To soar.

This I believe with all of my heart.