Starfish

I hate to wake up early in the morning. It must have been the thought of being alone on an adventure while all the little ones slept soundly that got me up and going. It might have been the empty streets, filled with a slightly hazy, humid air with the light just starting to think about breaking it into a clear day. Or maybe all those shots I had already put a box around in my mind and wanted to bring into reality onto my photo card. For all of these and more I nearly bounced out of bed with quiet cat like feet, into my black stretch pants, a tank, and some tennis shoes to take off for a early morning photography adventure.

I closed my door and started the Honda, wishing I could have put a sound buffer even on those noises, wincing a little with a glance in my rearview at the windows at the condo above. It was 6:45am and Kanah, Grace, and Salem would probably rest another hour if not interrupted. It would be best for me mentally if they were asleep while I was gone, so I didn’t have to think about what mothering roles might need doing. I stopped quickly at the little market and got a coffee with creamer and dashed back to my car to be on my way. Even just being in a Honda Accord brought me all kinds of nostalgic happy feelings that my husband would laugh at me for having. Given a “would you rather” car scenario I would take an Accord over any of his Road and Track indulgences any day ;).

My mind quickly scanned through all the images in my mind I had preserved as stopping points for my drive. I tried the highway bridge first but chickened out when I realized there was not a very safely designed pedestrian walkway. Every time we crest this bridge, which links the mainland to the beach islands and crosses over breathtaking green grassed marshes, I breathe in the delights of east coast beach vacationing and instantly feel happy. I have always wanted to stop at this point and capture it. Hit with that small defeat, I wondered if this was all a bust or if I was cut out for photo adventures. But looking towards Sullivans Island I picked up my pace again and soon found myself wandering along the marshes, practicing changing my f stop to make either the foreground or backgrounds blurry. I had a series of obsessive shots of the lock straight docks that lead over probably a hundred yards of marshy grassy land before ending with a drop into the canal. I was back in a stride and forgot my disappointment completely.

Feeling satisfied, I stopped next on the small neighborly bridge to Sullivans, enjoying cropping the swerves of the coastal surf below and capturing the rising light hitting only certain parts of the picture. I was patient, wishing away little details from my mental box, like runners and frolicking dogs and the like. I began to wish to be down on that quiet beach, so I drove into the adjacent neighborhood and cruised slowly, passing alluring double decked screened in porches with whirling ceiling fans and rows of rockers. Palm trees and twisted oaks leaned and craddled the shapes of the homes. As my eyes took in each dwelling with a curious joy, I couldn’t remember the last time I had been off on a journey like this one. Searching for a pathway to the beach and enjoying each moment along the way felt like a freshness I had missed from years ago. I finally saw a sandy walkway, drove up closer to make sure it was for the public, and parked my car next to a house where a lady with curlers sat staring at me from her porch chair. I felt slightly intrusive and brave all at once and parked my car to sneak through the dunes.

I walked through what felt like my very own “wardrobe” through the dunes and landed on a very desolate area of beach. Even at 7am, the heat hit me hard and I wished for a rubberband, but quickly decided to not care, as the beauty and isolation welcomed me for my little adventure.

I developed a small obsession right away for the orange colored seaweed clusters that had lined themselves up along the beach, probably from that morning’s high tide. Like from the hands of flower girls down an aisle, they lay dropped one after the other as far as I could see. Crouching and lining up my lines right and searching for new angles, I felt so free to enjoy capturing. I am truly a Capturer. It sounds like such a princess word or something, but I find utter DELIGHT in capturing expressions and beauty and moments and scenes that make my heart flutter and click with connection. It was a moment like that as I stood under the dunes and walked along the seaweed and peered out at shrimp boats and let my eyes measure the almost silly enormity of the southern style pillered and multi-porched beach front homes.

I let my tennis shoes get wet as I got closer and I found myself begin to pray outloud. Praying outloud might possibly be the most therapeutic and joyous and comforting and revelational thing I do, whether around my kitchen or there in that perfectly isolated spot. I talked to Jesus about my marriage, my heart, my kids. I felt very small. I felt humbled. I felt keenly aware of my faults and my tendencies for making big emotional and relational messes. We talked about all of that as my treads went along, sticking lightly to the muddy sand beneath fingernail deep waters. It didn’t matter how heavy the sentence that flowed off my lips. As soon as it was spoken it seemed to feel lighter and seemed to return to me from the Lord in grace, in an undeserved word of hope.

And then there were the starfish. They were alive. I found one, then another, then another. When I came upon the first one, my heart stopped and I crouched down above it. I thought it might be dead and then as I waited I saw that it was moving with an ever persistent, yet seemingly still pace back towards the ocean, which was reaching its long arms from stretching and thinned out waves only a few feet away. Then the starfish reached up one of its legs, curling it up into the air with slow control, like a graceful dancer, and I decided to help it. I picked it up and it began to curl itself backwards over my hand, and fighting my every urge in my creeped out being, I set about tossing it as far as I was able back into the waves. And then I did the same with the next and the next.

And about that time the Spirit inside of me seemed to speak about those starfish. See how they are on the edge of this ocean. Alive and crawling ever so slowly towards something great. And they are creations, given life and strength and everything they need to live and move and have their being by their Creator God. And God made it so that they could enjoy this big and beautiful ocean, far bigger and greater than they. And they are crawling. And I felt myself realizing that I am crawling with God. The things I had prayed about myself and who I am felt so heavy leaving my lips, like I had prayed these things about change a hundred million times. And to see all of those little legs on the bottom of that starfish moving ever so slowly and beautifully towards that great ocean felt like my walk with God every single day. And that’s what it’s supposed to be. I wish for God to pick me up and toss me into his greatness, that would be a lot easier. But he gave me these little legs to make little strides, with him, by his strength each and every day and to seek his vast greatness and glory before me.

I stood facing the ocean, thankful for the starfish. For our talk. For the picture of myself that gave me peace about what to do with where I am and who I am. I knew my adventure was felt complete that morning. With all I had taken in and discovered and enjoyed, it was there looking at those starfish that I myself felt captured up. God found me there and I let him show me what he saw about me. And I believed him. With that peace, I knew I could go away from this morning journey and get back to my life, crawling and inch towards my big and great God and enjoying the many more adventures he has planned for me.