Just Another Day at the Beach

Recently, I’ve had a lot of upheaval in my life.  Moving halfway across the country, leaving behind almost everyone and everything I knew, not to mention quitting a career that has been my identity for nearly half my life.

Adjusting to my new surroundings has been an ongoing process and this Saturday I decided I needed some me time.  What better place to clear my head than a day at the beach? It was a beautiful sunny California day, perfect swimsuit weather, which meant a long line of cars on the highway.  I decided to steer clear of the more popular spots and picked a place I had not tried before. From where I parked it looked perfect. I could see less than 10 people and a wide expanse of pristine beach. As I started down the trail with my polka dot beach bag and soy caramel macchiato I felt supremely confident.

I soon found the path I choose was incredibly difficult, nearly impossible and downright dangerous. Scratches from the bramble adorned my bare legs. At times the brush was taller than me and I had no idea if I was getting any closer to where I was meant to be. Several times I thought about turning back, but then I would catch a glimpse of the ocean waves and be spurned forward in my haste to reach the shore. The view was deceptive. My goal seemed so close and the frustration I felt at how long it was taking to get there was building until suddenly an opening appeared and I was there.

Only when I reached my destination did I realize there was another more direct path. ‘Silly girl’, I thought and chalked it up to experience. At least the way out would be easy. The longer I sat enjoying the view though the more I began to notice something. People on that path were giving up halfway down. Scared by what lay ahead. Not trusting themselves to make it. Perhaps they decided to go to a more crowded beach with easier access. In my ignorance, I had just kept going until I found myself somewhere amazing. A place where I knew I belonged and never wanted to leave.

I wanted to cheer those that paused, looked around, assessed the obstacles and continued down the steep terrain. Maybe they had been here before. Maybe they just had a feeling it would be worth it. Maybe the ocean waves were calling their names and there was no option of turning back.

The journey out was intimidating. I understood why some people had simply turned around and left. There was a sharp nearly vertical incline at one point. A sturdy rope stood ready to assist. I got to the top only to find it was tied to a small shrub. Trust in the one who tied the knot. Trust in the roots that kept the shrub anchored. Trust I didn't know I needed, but was there all along. Trust that it will all work out.

I still have the wounds from my journey and the memory of the difficulty times, but I wouldn’t trade the outcome for anything. Isn’t that true of most worthy endeavors?