The Shore

She's been washed over by the waves,
safe in her father's arms.
Danced her heart out to the Beastie Boys.
Like the seashore, life is gritty.
Like sea shells, we get smoother with every new wave.

It's been a busy and rough week around here. When Matt called me from his car yesterday asking if I'd throw some clothes in a bag and meet him outside to head to the beach, "Heck yes" was the first thing out of my mouth.

We never thought we'd be beach people. Not the surfing, displaying your pasty body, bake in the sun type of people. But when the thermostat reads 90 inland, it reads breezy and satisfying on the Jacksonville shoreline.

While I watched the surfers and hunted for shells, Matt and Karis rode the waves near the shore. That little girl is a natural-born beach bum. Loves the water, the sand, the chill in the air. Even purple lips and an all over shiver doesn't stop her from asking for more wave-riding. She gets her adventurous spirit from him, and I love to watch it flourish.

When the appetites and exhaustion soared beyond the point of ignoring them, we headed down A1A in search of a little beach diner. We found a pizza joint we'd been wanting to try. We stepped in, our clothes wet, my feet bare, and my head shaking in disbelief that I'd left my shoes outside my car door back at the beach. My "good" sandals. At least the bare feet added to the beach bum attitude. While waiting, a fun little ditty by the Beastie Boys came over the speakers, and I invited Karis to join me in an impromptu dance off. She beat me with a very sophisticated dance number involving standing up half way in her high chair. I laughed and clapped while Matt walked up and scolded her for standing up in her chair. I couldn't blame him, and I should have done the same. It was fun to get caught up in the moment.

The pizza was amazing. Matt called it our Lupi's at the beach. I said I was glad to have an "our Lupi's" anywhere near the Jacksonville area. Afterward, we headed back towards the beach area, and sure enough my sandals were sitting there covered in sand, unassuming, and having been most certainly run over by the SUV sitting over them. I was thankful to have them back, my "good" sandals. We decided since we were back at the beach again, it would only be prudent to take an impromptu walk. Of course, once out there, the gleam came over Matt's eye. In an instant, his shirt was off and he was riding the waves. I entertained Karis by playing a game of chase in the sand dunes. We both laughed hysterically and then walked back to the beach to watch Matt get tossed to and fro by the strong Atlantic winds and undercurrent. It was just the sort of relaxation he needed.

On the ride home, Karis sang about bridges, the beach, and her shoes. Matt and I listened to some country music, probably one of the only times I enjoy that genre (on our way back from the shore). I thought about how grateful I am for my life. It's been such a rough day (and week, for that matter). I'm trying to find a healthy balance for my body, mind, and emotions. It's slow going, and I'm not exactly brimming with hope at this point in my journey. But as the song on the radio reminded me, I've been washed in the blood not just the water.

She's been washed over by the waves,
safe in her father's arms.
Danced her heart out to the Beastie Boys.
Like the seashore, life is gritty.
Like sea shells, we get smoother with every new wave.