There is comes again: that awful second wave sneaking up behind the first one you have just expertly dodged. The one that catches you with your back turned and sends you tumbling, embarrasingly ungraceful-like, in a flurry of limbs, salt water, hair, sand (and the occasional foam boogey board)…That wave that only mildly affronted you as a kid (if it did not drown you, that is), but that becomes more of a threat the older you get and the more ‘Ive-got-my-act-together’ poop that is expected of you.
Its always the second wave that gets me- as most of my attention and energies have gone to neatly diving through the first one in a way that will leave my bikini intact and that dreaded snot trail from my face (salt water seems to LOOSEN things up), so that, by the time i have come up for air and have rearranged all things displaced (hair, ties, mucus), making a quick survey of who might actually be watching (normally not the entire world, as my self conscious tendencies would presume), it’s too late to prep for the next one. I have but time to mumble an “oh crap”, to brace myself and to hope for the best.
Life’s waves and our personal abilities & strengths, pitfalls & weaknesses that we have as tools to navigate it- this is what i am actually talking about. Much like the ocean, life (and humanity) is not always predictable: we need to size it up and muster up what we have to face it and live it well. Oftentimes, just as we are high-fiving ourselves for a job well done, Life, She throws us a sadistic ‘back at ya’ and we are left a-fumbling.
The wave that always gets me is the waves of loneliness. I have found that, no matter how well i have worked that day, connected that day, played that day and felt good about that day, should THAT day deliver me a second wave in the form of loneliness, im a temporary gone-er: floundering around in copious cups of tea, channel surfing tendencies, chocolate consumption, boy contacting (i hang my head in shame) and restless activity, with my innards gnawing a deeper hole into my psyche. Gosh, i hate that chasm-like feeling.
(By the way, this blog is not for a sympathy vote- this is me just talking human: if you are immune to this particular second wave, please stand up and take the podium, we would like to hear from you)
The second wave is a hated wave because it shows my true colours. I do not emerge as commendably as i would like to. I am seen to be the one who misses the mark (sinner) that i am. I am left poking my toe into the beach sand, head bowed somewhat, standing next to my Heavenly Father rather sheepishly as we chat about what has just gone on. Normally He gets me mid tea-gulp, or as im sinking my teeth into my next lump of chocolate. I instantaneously see the futility of my reactions and the sweet, hot liquid that was making all thing Good becomes what it truly is: hot water with some leaf extract, moo-juice and sugar crystals. Not quite the lifeline i had been counting on…