Soaring in the Son

Summer has come at last! It is time to hang the chimes, pamper our toes and squeeze basket amounts of citrus. While temperatures rise, so do our dreams of blissful days basking in golden rays. We imagine ourselves on exotic vacations even staycations floating in casual comfort, sipping tranquility and dripping with laughter. The season which draws us outdoors into extended day and entices with sweet fruit also invites us to play.

When I was a little girl my three sisters and I would leave our inland home to spend summers at the beach with our Dad. While our father worked, we took to the sand; two lathered in baby oil resolved to become bronze beauties while the younger two braved shimmering wonders. The sunny shores were a wide open and endless playground where our adventurous spirits could soar like seagulls. Back then white capped waves were glorious playmates which tossed us about as we squealed with glee. I can recall our long blonde locks matted with sand whipping about our faces as we flew colorful kites. Days were spent designing castles and digging for crabs, fishing from the jetty and exploring under stilted homes at low tide. Tiny toes traipsed upon the beach before sunrise to catch sand dollars on the shore until long after sunset when they danced around campfires.

Summer then was a bright eyed beauty which beckoned me to play, explore and sing. I eagerly took her hand and skipped on warm planks until our season of soaring came to a close. With my bag packed for our trip back home I would don socks and shoes once more. A hearty loot of seaside treasures carefully cradled in my lap made the parting less painful and later prompted memories of freedom when school schedules set in.

Over the years my friendship with the shore had been battered by the storms of life. The dangers of the deep clouded the once sunny skies and the waves upon which I surfed now carried the ashes of my Dad. Though thirty minutes away, I seldom spend summer days on the shore and never enter the water.

Last week at the request of my son I chaperoned he and his friends on a trip to the beach. After the final bell of the school year, they were climbing into my car with smiles and anticipation for the summer ahead. While they enjoyed their long leash of freedom on the pier, I took off my sandals and took to the sand. The sensation took me back to younger days when I was free of fear and braved the waves. The sights and smells beckoned me remember as I walked once again on spitting wet sand and through sizzling foam.

This side of salvation it was not Summer which bathed me in radiant light that day. It was my heavenly Father’s love. There on the sand I wrestled with the past as memories like waves washed over me again and again. Old fears began to swell as the retreating water washed the sand out from under my feet. Though I wanted to retreat myself to dry ground my spirit was reminded that I stood upon the Rock of Christ; my iniquities which threatened to drag me out to dark depths of death rested at the bottom of the sea. Once more I stood free on the shore. The breeze carried sweet sentiments to my ear and cool sprays of saltwater to my lips. I had no need to fear for my Father was near; His faithful eyes ever upon me past, present and future.

There and then I turned on the sand and found that which was lovely became dazzling when facing the sun. The water’s shades of deep blue and the white foam were changed to gold, amber and red. A glorious example of what a life looks like when facing the Son. God certainly does make all things new!

This summer I resolve to visit the beach often and allow the child in me freedom to soar once more. I will take to the sand holding my husband’s hand, dig for sand crabs with my grandchildren and fly kites with my son. I will wade in the water and watch peacefully as those I love surf. I will let my golden locks whip in the wind and lick the salt off my lips while I soak up the Son, His Word and sunshine. 

May we all have a summer of soaring in the Son!