Feeding the Waves - Reflections on Sea Glass (Megan)

Feeding the Waves - Reflections on Sea Glass

 

I was 7 years old, splashing and twirling in the waves. 

“Look, Daddy!  They’re hungry!”  I squealed, tossing my treasure trove of shells into the voracious belly of the sea. 

With childish abandon I fed them again and again.  They must have deemed my offerings too pitiful,  for the great waves crashed down and tried to swallow me.…

Rolling billows sucked air from my small lungs, replacing  it with the briny foretaste of death.  My screams for help were drowned by the pounding surf.

Just as my body went limp with fatigue, I felt the strong arms of my father envelop me.

I was rescued and reclaimed.  My fears were calmed.  I was safe.

 

I was 17 years old, drawn to this same beach by a force as strong as the lunar tides. 

The surf was nothing more than background noise.  I walked here alone to collect trinkets and hear myself think.  I didn’t bother to get my feet wet. 

My eyes were fixed on the treasures I had collected.  Holding them to the light, I watched them sparkle and imagined the beautiful things I could make with them. 

Energized by the pounding surf, I relished my sense of independence and potential.

My destiny was mine to shape.  My horizons were limitless.  I was invincible.

 

I was 37 when I found time to return to my beach.  Salty tears mixed with the ocean spray.  Screams of disillusionment and rage were drowned by the pounding surf .

“You’ve taken everything else!  Won’t you let me keep just one for myself?  Reluctantly I opened my palm to gaze on the last of my treasures.  It was shaped like my heart and reflected my likeness.

I clung so tightly that glass began to cut my hand.  Salt stung my wound. 

Closing my eyes, I remembered the small girl who had relinquished her treasures so freely, and I decided to let go. 

Limp with fatigue, the greedy waves would have consumed me had I not been supported by the strong arms of my Father.

I was rescued and reclaimed.  My fears were calmed.  I was safe.

 

Someday I will return to my beach, an older woman, yet filled with childlike wonder of the sea. 

My hands will be empty, and the waves will no longer thunder their demands. 

I will think back to the beautiful shells and trinkets I fed to these waves.  So many dreams turned to “broken chards, tossed, and tumbled smooth by years of waves and currents.” 

Some of them will be returned to me as sea glass, refined by my Father and more precious than ever.  “For what He does not always return in kind, He replaces in value.”

My future is His.  “The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places.”  I am safe.