He took me to the ocean last night.
Not because he wanted to.
But because I wanted to.
He is giving and sure and gracious like that.
He knows my need and gives up his time and makes things happen even when I do not give him thanks for it all.
I know Someone else like that.
I told my love I needed to smell the salt and breathe in the dripping air and watch the water retreat,
Because that is what I wanted to do:::
Retreat like that. To leave for a bit and roll back in with the moon and tide, washed and refreshed and ready to take the world on again.
I told him that I needed to hold his hand and stammer through the tidal mud and lift the ‘weed and find some treasure. Something pretty and rounded on the edges.
Something with a story to tell.
Something once-birthed jagged and cracked and broken- all- up.
Something tossed and turned and flailing on the waves.
Something trusting the ride, because it knows the end.
Something sanded and worn-down and full of grit-scoured wrinkling.
Something like that.
Something that ends up re-fined and re-curved and re-shaped and re-polished.
Lost and found again.
Washed free from the bottom and catapulted high to shine in the sun.
A glistening gem buried beneath the ‘weeds and rocks and water.
Something-fractured-separated… turned something-brand-new.
He bought me a milkshake with a cherry on top and we walked along the pebbled shore.
He laughed and looked his for-me-only grin while he found mussels and pieces of glass and metal and rest.
He joked and talked and I listened and breathed in the salt air and him and the warmth of his hand.
And found rest right there.
I felt pretty and found and picked up and brushed off anew again.
Right there in my muck on a rocky beach near the sea.
Breathing in salt.
So I can be.
Oh, I pray to be:
“You are the salt of the earth… In the same way, let your light shine before others…” Matthew 5:16