Go out, go out I beg of you
And taste the beauty of the wild.
Behold the miracle of the earth
With all the wonder of a child. – Edna Jaques
Some days just seem to go wrong. I don’t respond well, I make things harder than need be, I find myself throwing my hands in the air and saying, “PLEASE can’t we just get along??”, fully knowing that things will resolve better with time if I remain patient and calm.
In moments like these, I feel defeated.
As a mother, I want to be a compassionate role model, as a person, I want to show respect and kindness to others. Many times I need to do the very thing I tell my children:
be still. breathe. calm down. reset. try again.
And I long for the ocean.
There I would stand, waist deep, looking out into the horizon and waiting for a glorious, tall wave to rush in and sweep over me. Strong and terrifying, it would knock me over and I would see how truly small I am.
I might stop acting so big.
The water would be cold and salty and my skin would have that beachy freshness to it. I might be upset for a moment. But, as my clothes cling tight to my body, I would smile, thank the ocean, and walk back up along the shore.
There are some things in life powerful like the ocean.
Big moments that hit us and pull us down below the sea and push us up again, so we can regain our footing in less certain ground, where we don’t think we know so much.
And small moments, too. The kind that you don’t even notice, they slowly creep up and splash around your feet, but still, they impact you.
Today we put our books down and allowed ourselves to become intoxicated with sunshine and fresh air. We ran and laughed, marveled at a partially frozen lake, found enjoyment in throwing sticks onto the icy layer and watching to see the outcome.
And like a gentle wave, the wrong words and deeds were swept away and we all stood up feeling refreshed. And my heart feels so very ready to welcome more days like this.