The Outdoors Beckons--Seaside

The outdoors beckons our spirits, connecting to the beginnings of time for us—or most of us. The Bible tells us Adam lived in a garden with Eve, had a job there. That first wonderful task of his, to name the animals, must have brought laughter and fun! Did he have to think about them as he stared at a…..hippopotamus? I have no idea what his language sounded like or what hippopotamus sounded like in that language….but just the joy of it! Ponder an animal…..watch it lumber around in water, or sail overhead in flight, jump straight up, its horns slashing air, or dash about wildly in a field just because it can. And, then, to form the words to give each of these animals a name, its own special title, different than all others……

We read those words quickly, pass them by, say them easily with little thought. “Adam named the animals.” There are those, of course, even in churches who believe no Adam lived, no Eden existed with a lush, verdant garden for Adam and Even to tend and reap from, no animals fully-formed who frolicked around, waiting for their one, special name. But even if you don’t believe it did happen, think that if it had the amount of work to come up with all those names. “You’re a giraffe.” “You’re a goose.” “Zebra; monkey; antelope; fly; catfish,” and, of course, the beloved ones, “horse;” “cat;” “dog.” While I’m off in my imagination, I can almost hear Adam (in whatever his language) say to that last one, “Dog." What a good name. Would he (or she) then have heard for the first time, “What a good dog”?

Why don’t you hang around close for a bit?” and that familiar wild-doggy looking creature, the one before humans started breeding for size or coat or color, wags his tail, walks in circles a few times, lies down, tail-over-nose, sighs, and rests near his first person, now with a name all his own.

At least for me, the outdoors calls when my spirit needs soothing and when the indoors, comfortable as it can be, gets to be too much of too much.

 And so, this week, for just a couple of days, the beach.

No one knows for sure, of course, the beginnings of the beginning. My own agnostic scientist son assures me that “evolution is a methodology.”  Okay. I have no problem with that.

But standing on the edge of the continent there, watching the foaming Atlantic charge in, rush out, gather itself a bit, then hurl that foaming swell back towards the beach, I don’t know many people whose spirit calls out from within, “Oh, thank you, subhuman protoplasm that crawled out of the Sea!” For most people—and, I totally agree it is most—the call is, “Thank You, God, thank You,” or, if not God, then Spirit or however a person’s Higher Power is addressed.

 

As a Christian, Thank You, God, works fine.

All of which lends to posters and prose, but what does it mean and how does it connect to real people now?

My husband and I like all beaches, but we love this beach, this one beach, the one where he first introduced our son and me to the Atlantic over thirty years ago now. As a small, blond, blue-eyed boy stepped over the sand dunes, his first look at the body of water that…..never ended! His eyes grew, his mouth dropped, and his walk slowed and slowed….and stopped. But eventually, if not that first trip, then later ones, he fished, body surfed, learned to see the wonder of the waters. Since those first trips, we have returned and returned, usually to this same hotel, a miniature deck looking over the Ocean, the island small, tourists not yet ruling as in other ocean towns. And so, the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, leaving detailed instructions for the very experienced pet sitter who did not need them, we loaded the car with enough stuff for a week as we left for two days, and headed east.

The pier juts out into the ocean, hosting fishermen and women 24 hours a day, I’d guess 365 days a year. I have never not seen at least a few intrepid souls casting from that pier. Birds dive bomb, fluff up against the wind, little beady eyes peering around:  “Who has food I can steal?” But the best, the sweetest, if looking out into that blue water I can see dolphins cruise by or, even better, break the surface and splash down, throwing droplets into the air, diving for room to get energy to leap again. These dolphins wear sleek, black skin, no doubt cousins to Flipper, but not first cousins. I’ve learned to watch for the birds hovering above the water, chattering, waving around……no doubt following the dolphins who, no doubt, follow the fish below.

Smorgasbord.

They don’t always show….not every time.  On Wednesday when I walked out onto the pier, feeling that “A-h-h-h-h” of relief, some time away from a period in my life that stress just visits more than I want, I whispered a prayer, almost a random thought, but a real one nonetheless. “Lord, it’s not a demand, but, please, dolphins…..”

We walked up a bit, saw a brave wet-suited young man waiting for a wave to catch and ride in, surf board at the ready, and then (because he knows I cannot see very well), Mike said, “Look! Dolphins!”

I peered out towards the sun reflected off the dark water, past the surfer……..”Where?”

“THERE!” And then I saw a fin break the surface and submerge…..break, submerge, the birds dancing in the air above. Suddenly, one sleek swimmer jumped, almost leaping over the surfer, a perfect dive back into the deep.

Ah, yes. And, without will, my mind whispered, “Thank you, Lord.”

The next day, those aquatic mammals put on a show! They swam, they jumped, they dove, they leaped. From the pier, we saw people on the beach stopping, pointing, as enthralled as we were—though I admit the fishermen around us didn’t care so much. “You can’t catch ‘em.” Eventually one slowly made his way back towards us, accompanied by a flying friend. I wore out my finger trying to get a picture. I can see the fin when I look, but no one else would know…..the memory and the gratitude that will stay with me must suffice; I will revisit those magical moments in my mind.

 

There are those, of course, who will say, “The dolphins would have been there anyway; your prayer meant nothing.”

Maybe.

But those who refuse to see an answer to prayer will never see one, even if God wrote in the sky, “I did this!”  To me, that gift, a sight of those beautiful sea creatures, so healing to a person for whom animals mean so much, a gift from the Creator who knows her better than anyone else, shows the love of that Creator. And, as when I see the ocean tides, or the mountains waving color in the fall, or a horse thundering across a pasture, running to me, a gift undreamed of not so long ago, or a dog watching me with eyes looking for my pleasure.....my spirit says, "Thank you, Lord. I am gifted beyond deserving."