Angry Ocean - November 5, 2021

We're in the middle of a nor'easter! They're predicting king tides-the highest tides of the year. There could be road flooding and power outages from powerful onshore winds. They say area beaches will not be the same after the storm subsides. The strong north to south ocean current will scrub away beach sands and there are gale warnings. The palm tree next to our unit is holding on for dear life. Not what I expected for early November in Florida.

The ocean is angry.

It mirrors the way my body feels. My feet are angry. My lips and mouth are burning and my skin is rebellious. I can feel every nerve ending. I’ve been trying to ignore it the past month by focusing on how grateful I am to be here and challenging myself to do new things. Although there has been success and blessed moments in all I’ve been able to do, there is a price to pay. Risk verses reward.

I drove up to Jacksonville Beach yesterday to run errands. It took almost a half hour, in the traffic my right foot hates. After being on my hurting feet for a while, when it was time to head back, I dreaded the drive. Having to press my foot on the gas pedal during start and stop driving, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it home. The rest of the afternoon was spent with distraction from pain, meditation and staying off my feet. None of this physical pain is new to me and is somewhat expected. The cycle is familiar. I can take it for a while and then it all catches up with me. Then I feel as if I can’t take it another minute.

At one time or another, don’t we all feel like we just want to revert back to a childhood tantrum, to stomp our feet and scream at the top of our lungs? Today, the sea is doing it for me. After many weeks of slowly rolling waves and clear skies, the cycle of the sea has switched to fierce surf, whitecaps breaking as far as I can see, and massive white seafoam.

Does the ocean feel the same, like it has to let go too, sometimes into wild abandon? Today, it has erupted and is lashing out. And I can relate.

On days like this it’s important for me to remember that there is most assuredly a rainbow up ahead. In the song “Rainbow” by Kacey Musgraves she sings,

“Well, the sky has finally opened, the rain and wind stopped blowin’, but you’re stuck out in the same old storm again. You hold tight to your umbrella, well darlin’ I’m just tryin’ to tell ya, that there’s always been a rainbow hangin’ over your head.”

Instead of waiting for my rainbow, I ask God to give me the grace to see the rainbow that is always there. And to hang onto my umbrella.