So should I change the name of this place to the Thursday Morning Post? No! Because I have so, so much to tell you, Dear Web Log, a thousand posts in my head, just as many pictures in my camera, and exactly two drafts in my folder. But these two weeks have been...so so hard. The kind of hardness that leaves your bones aching with weakness and your head spinning, and yet you still find yourself living an existence shifting through empty and half full and overflowing cardboard boxes and endless sets of sandy feet and hungry bellies AND YET YOU HAVE ALREADY DONE SO MUCH!!!
I will save all that for another post, because today is Theme Thursday with Clan Donaldson, and I swear I didn't write the schedule, but it's Water! And a thin veil of happiness descends...
Yeah, we moved to this beach house almost two weeks ago, with our six kids, and our dog, and our snake and our overworked Daddy and underpaid Mama, because even with those auspicious adjectives to our titles, we have this longing for beauty, for simple earthly serenity, for goodness' sake. And after our short foray here, I am sure we will find both of these things in this yellow brick house by the sea.
But right now, it ain't home, it's work. So much work when we have already spent what greatness we have had in the getting here.
Unplanned, but incredibly welcome, we have developed a little ritual of walking down to the beach after dinner and pretending we aren't going to go in, but inevitably, they go in. Ritual becomes so important in these trying times, something to hold onto, especially at times when you are feeling a bit lost and a bit homeless, even though you are neither. The Good God, He made us this way, and ritual almost feels like His outstretched hand, pulling you through to the place of belonging.
Ours is the little yellow one, dead center with the front of windows. Of course it happens to be sunset, and of course the kitchen happens to be clean (completely clean!) for the first time since breakfast, and all eight of us (teenagers included, unbidden) wander down the white sand path to the water. Actually our neighbors' path because ours is overgrown (more work for tomorrow).
Have you ever been in the Gulf at sunset? It is a liquidy, soft, golden-pink enchantment. No wonder they go in fully clothed. First it gets their toes, and then the hems of their clothes get wet, until a wave overcomes them and swallows them all up.
So this elementary ritual, going to the water when I'd rather go to bed, I feel like in their happy, brown skinned, just one more time dip, I'm reaping the most benefit.