Waves

I lay awake night after night in the hide-a-bed at the beach house. Contemplative. Painfully aware that my insomnia is a collision of soul plates; fault lines of destruction. Mortality seems utterly tangible. The consistency of the ocean's waves, the never-failing pulse of earth, only serve to highlight my own inconsistency, my own failing. "What if's" linger and tease. "What if" the people who helped my husband save the children from the wave that surprised them, had not been there? "What if" Rose had not been holding her breath when Dave grabbed her as she floated by in the water? "What if" Dave had not gotten to Rowan before another wave came (he was pinned under a log). "What if" that stranger had not grabbed Grant who was the furthest out? "What if" God had not been so merciful?

These beautiful babes given are held with an open hand. And yet I shudder. I thrashed it out, night after night. Who do these children belong to? They belong to God. What do I believe about God? I believe He is Love itself and that all His acts are according to His love. Can I trust Him with my children? I can trust Him utterly, He loves them more than I ever could. Will I trust Him? Ahhh, here is the fault line where ruptures occur. Will I trust.....

The peace settles in as I reflect. "He will not let your foot slip-He who watches over you will not slumber..." (Psalm 121:3) So He's awake too... and He's speaking. "Your promises have been thoroughly tested, and your servant loves them." (Psalms 119:140) It's true, time and again God's promises have proven sustainable as I've put my trust in them. I remember the times I've wrapped my fingers around God's blessings; holding them selfishly hidden in fear and pride. I'd peek at the jewel to find it coal in my palm, a blessing thwarted with distrust. May it not be so with my children. I pry the fingers back, thrust the hands upward. I will trust because I believe.

As I sat down tonight to write, this post was not in my mind at all. I meant to write about the humorous events of the weekend. Mom sitting in the tea room wearing a feather boa and big hat. Rowan rocking out on the "air guitar" and the fact that I ate about 4 pounds of taffy. But here is my heart, blood turned ink. Fear turned freedom.

"I run in the path of your commands, for you have set my heart free." (Psalms 119:32)