We went to the ocean this summer. It had been calling me for so long. For a girl who was raised amongst mountain tops I wonder at the deep pull that immense salty place has on my soul. In the mountains I feel at home….they keep me oriented…I know where I am and where I need to go. I love the feeling of looking up at their depth and height and the awe of looking for miles from their towering peaks.
When we lived in the south and there wasn't a hill in sight I often felt desultory….like a stranger roaming and lost. The only comfort was at the ocean, feeling the salt on my skin and the wind on my face. It wasn't the same as my mountains that beg me to climb, to conquer, to be in them…feel the rugged path under my feet and grit under my nails. I can't swim…not really, and the uncontrolled impulsive power of the waves scares me. Yet there I stand, as long as I can, watching the waves roll and crash; only my feet brave enough to withstand the teasing waves. It soothes my soul, clarifies my thoughts and orients my perspective. Even now as I sit here in my mountain home I feel the pull of the rolling tides.
"The Lord still moves mountains, and still calms the raging seas." I heard in church today.
It made me wonder (but not really wonder) why I find comfort in the things that only God can control.
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