Living just an hour and a half from the Atlantic Ocean, made it easy to reach the shore, walk the beaches, go shell and driftwood hunting as a child and even later as an adult. Ocean saunters and “people-watching” were some of my favorite ways to chill.
Sitting on boardwalk benches, I noticed life at a slower pace… families strolling over the wooden boards, eating ‘fudge samples’, buying tee shirts, buckets for sand castles Frisbees and suntan lotion; folks came to bake on sunny, wind-swept beaches, have their
un-attended food pirated by enterprising sea gulls; and those without beach tags ran for
the waves when toll tag spotters drew near; most folks ignored the lifeguards, unless they
were caught by a rip-tide.
Couples on tandem-bikes, lazily rode the early morning streets, and waited for their favorite pancake house to open. Kayaks paddled with care on the Inter-Coastal, trying to
avoid the speed boats’ wake, and glided near reed islands where the migratory birds
nested. I’d wave at the trawlers headed out for a catch, and stayed on the lookout for
schools of dolphins racing one another close to the jetties and around Cape May Point. The
sights, sounds, smells and pace of these lazy Summer days were cozy invitations to drink in a simpler life.
Combing the beach after a storm was magical! Often the winds continued blowing in from the East, keeping the biting green flies in the back bays. There was an incredible natural symmetry in how the shells managed to beach themselves on the shore… colors, shapes, and sizes of the shells all differed from low to high tide, and I found myself enticed into collecting, no, hoarding, the most beautiful items the ocean spilled out into the tide pools. I intended to store them away, take them with me when I returned to the mainland.
With my sketch-book and journal in hand, I fancied myself another “Ann Morris Lindberg”, capturing whatever the ocean washed ashore, fingering and recording the life I gathered at land’s end. Ann’s book, “Gift From the Sea”, was a familiar read for me; I celebrated her insights and the artistic patterns on each shell and sea creature as I examined them all. I saw myself as a kindred spirit to Ann and was curious about a Creator who called all of life good and then stuck around to sustain it! But in my excessive desire to capture the ocean’s gifts, I missed much of the wisdom Lindberg offered, about never letting observation and recording to be disruptive to what I observed. My obsession was to collect. Daily I spent hours filling up my journal, and cramming more and more of my ocean treasures into my sea box to take home.
But the wisdom of ‘do no harm’ wasn’t forever lost on me. One day, I caught an important lesson about possessions from carefree friend. After swimming back to shore and racing up the sand dunes, I noticed my friend's shell necklace gleaming wet, reflecting the setting sun. She always wore this necklace, but I never noticed before how beautiful it was. The sun’s rays shown on the mother-of-pearl shells, making them glisten like opals around her neck. I told her how exquisite the reflection was!
Immediately, unclasping it, she handed it to me. I was embarrassed. I hadn’t said that I wanted it. Only that I admired its beauty. I handed it back, and she, with notable hesitation, refastened it around her neck. I asked her, "Why did you give me your necklace?" With the shells still glimmering in the sunset, she scooped up a handful of sand and looked at me. "This", she said," is how I try to live", and the sand trickled through her fingers. "The ocean taught me this about beautiful things. I can’t cling to treasures, just appreciate them while I have them. God will send new treasures with the next wave.”
We spoke about this long into the night on the dunes, watching the surf crash and the moon rise over the Atlantic. Flashlight in hand, she read me a Psalm (93;4), “More powerful than the breakers of the sea, powerful on high is the Lord…” As the waves washed in, they sculpted a new stretch of beach, and I was awakened by the thought that all things do change, minute by minute in this life, and what’s important is to notice and treasure the beauty while it’s there.
I saw that what I have, didn’t define me, and is not nearly as important as who I am. When who I am, can let go of my treasures, at a moment’s notice, for the sake of another, I am set free. Clinging to nothing that’s passing, I could learn to belong to what lasts: love, and God, who’s eternal. My friend shared perhaps unknowingly, what St. Augustine had said long ago, that only God can satisfy the longings in our hearts.
Trusting that God will supply all I need as I give away what I have for love, was one of my first acts of faith in God and God’s care. My seashore encounters with this friend were ones of spiritual growth for me! She was already familiar with the Almighty about whom I was just starting to discover.
Looking back on the days of my youth in those Inter-coastal towns, I realize now how much I needed to learn about not clinging to my collections and possessions, but to set my heart on loving and learning how God reveals himself in creation and opportunities. The “salty wisdom of letting go” my friend gave me, sounds similar to St. Teresa of Avila’s words: “Live lightly; all things are passing, God alone remains and suffices”.
That Summer I learned to “let go lightly” of the many treasures I tried to possess; my friend introduced me to a gracious, generous God who loved me. I saw the differences between wants and needs and was set free from the bondage of accumulations. I left the beaches that Fall, empowered to pass on the message to seek for what’s essential and share, for the sake of love.
So, why this story? The pandemic has lifted up everyone’s lives, like the seventh wave in a high tide! It has overturned our sense of control and security, crashing it down onto life’s shore. Once we pull ourselves out of the heavy surf of worry about sickness, contagion, death, confinement, food and pleasure shortages, unpaid bills, loss of jobs, and get our bearings again, we’ll need to decide how to walk on a sandy future ahead. With this world-wide crisis, I pray we’ll realize, what and who really matter, and put our devotion where it belongs. Perhaps then we will find that we all can let go lightly, and hold tightly to everything that really matters.
FOR REFLECTION AND DISCUSSION: 1-One thing I hold on tightly to in life is... 2-God alone remains and suffices when... 3-My secret to letting non-essentials flow through my fingers like sand is...