salt to remember me by.....

Waves.

The first time we ventured to Prince Edward Island my daughter Martha was a toddler. I held her in my arms and waded out to my hips into the choppy water and waited for the waves to roll in. They didn't disappoint as they merged into a forceful mound before they broke into an exhilarating cascading fall....splashing, soaking, surprising us as they pushed on by to the shore. Our laughter filled the sky. "Bring it on," we cried! "More!"

The next year, her legs and body were sturdy enough to wade in holding our hands. Once again the waves rolled on one at a time leaving us tasting the salt, leaving it's glistening charm on our skin. The stronger ones bowled us over and under for a few moments, our hands still holding on together. Our laughter burst out in a feeling of freedom, up over the surf. "Bring it on," we cried! "More!"

By the end of the second visit, there were times when we sat close to the shore. Knowing her Mom and Dad were close by my daughter waded into her dimply knees and waited for the waves. They didn't disappoint. In they rolled in an undulating pattern, merging just before they crested and fell into one another with their churning bubbles, pushing onto the shoreline. I watched my daughter watch the waves. As soon as she could see them forming the crest, her arms SHOT up into the air in gleeful defiance......her body shouting "Bring it on!" Her laughter was so resoundingly joyful it brought us to laughter. "More!"

Waves. We love them, anticipate them, yearn for them. They wake us up with their stimulating grandeur. A slapsplash of a wave seems to heighten all of our senses. They make us cry out for more! But they can be tiring too. After a stint in the water battling the waves, its always so wonderful to lay your towel down on the sunbaked sand and collapse while summer's rays warm you and fill you with energy again.

We need both. Too many waves, and your legs begin to buckle from fatigue. Too much sunbaking and the energy you've acquired from the sun turns on itself and makes you sleepy. It zaps you of the strength needed to brace yourself for the turning of the tide. Rarely do we ever find the perfect balance in our lives. Rarely can we ever anticipate the waves in our lives as we can along the shoreline.

During the times when we are inundated with them, one after another to a point when the BRING IT ON turns into a cry for NO MORE.......? The moments of calm become as precious as finding a piece of smooth blue glass offered up from the tide. The moments of calm become like harbouring alcoves where the wind and the waves leave faint echos. The moments of calm become the benchmark memory, when you can begin to take deep breaths in again knowing you can exhale in peace.

I look back on a year of waves.........some welcoming, some rogue-like.......tiring, challenging, stretching.......some which made me laugh up into the sky and some which knocked me down leaving me without enough air in my lungs. I always got back up......and sometimes needed help from someone to learn to put my arms defiantly in the air again, to find my voice......salty tears, salty waves.....a glistening body covered in remembrance. What stands out this morning as I write and reflect on the year that was 2008 are the little alcoves of calm.....and one in particular shines on in my heart more than any other.

I spent an afternoon in the silence of a cathedral. Leaving the roar of the waves outside the welcoming door, I found myself still jittery and bruised as I entered into a place of faint echos. I could hear my own footsteps as I walked slowly. I looked up and around in awe of the mastery and listened to the collective hymns captured in the pillars and dome. I could hear the whispering prayers caught in the thinness of inspiration….and it calmly rolled over me as I explored the little altar alcoves. Candlelight blended with the blue glass light, I sat, I knelt….I let my own prayers filter into the thin air.

Silence. It felt like I had the whole cathedral to myself. But, I wasn’t alone that day. I was with two people who were helping me find my outstretched arms again….two beautiful human beings who were taking their own path through the ancestry of faith. I could feel their presence, never too far away.

Time slipped by. In fact I had lost track of it. Time left me alone, a pilgrim soaking in the reverence, speaking not one word out loud. Talking to God.

I found myself standing at the top of the stone steps next to the main altar admiring the arches and domes, the light cascading, reflecting shadows into the deep folds. I looked down to see one person sitting alone in the front row of the pews. His hands were clasped, quietly sitting on his lap. His eyes were closed. I was pulled down the steps and placed right beside him. My calm met his calm. We spoke in whispers when we spoke at all. Mostly, we enjoyed the faint echos in our own alcove, humbled by the strength of the beauty of Canterbury Cathedral. My inner calm return.

I have thought of this quiet time with my friend many times since, especially when the waves sent me reeling again. And every time I picture the two of us sitting close in silence looking up at an altar which defies descriptive words , I feel like I’ve been touched by an eternal beacon of light…..one offered to me by a person I feel like I’ve known for MORE than a fortnight….a friend I had met through the magic of blogging. My strength returns. My arms reach up into the air. And I can hear my voice sing out in happiness….BRING it ON!


So as we say so long to a year of learning, stretching, growing…..a year of undulating waves, glorious experiences, strengthening friendships….as we reflect on a year which tested our mettle, but also gave us more insight into ourselves and others, may we take the time to recognize our moments of grace and light when we find we hold in our hands a piece or two of blue glass brought in by the tides.

Happy New Year from me to you. 2009? Bring it on!!