A Line in the Sand

Written by Marisa Lykins

Recently my husband Todd and I traveled to Topsail Beach, NC to see our son, David, marry his bride, BryAnna, in a beautiful beach side ceremony. It was such a special time!

We had decided early on when we learned of their plans to extend our time at another beach after the wedding celebration so that we could have the anniversary trip we hadn’t got to take earlier this year. After all the whirlwind of fun and festivities, that’s where we parked ourselves for several days on the beautiful sugary white sand.

After one of my many naps in the sun on my beach towel, I woke up in that sort of fog that comes from sleeping really well – but in a strange place. You know, when you “come to”, you just aren’t quite sure where you are or how you got there, so it takes a few moments to get your wits about you.

I was lying with my head facing away from the water. As I looked to my left – still dreaming of crab legs and shrimp I knew we were to have for dinner that night – I found my gaze focused toward the black soft side cooler we had our bottled water stored in. I realized as my eyes began to focus better that I could see hundreds of grains of sand blowing past me in the wind.

As the wind speed ebbed and flowed, the grains of sand did too, creating those soft fluffy places where I could see the beautiful sea oats and grasses that had taken root. Then I lifted my head and turned to my right, towards the waves. I heard crashing onto the shore, and I noticed something strange. There was no sand at all blowing to my right. It was compacted down, holding nothing but the occasional empty shell.

It was if I was lying on a dividing line. As I lay there, I contemplated how this was so like my own life.

I often seem to try and walk precariously on a very thin and yet distinct line in the sand some days.

I can stray too far over to that compacted place where the waves and “stuff of life” beat me down to the point where I became hard and unyielding. Sort of like where my husband tried to first “plant” our beach umbrella. The sand would not cooperate. It gave up nothing.

And then are those times I have allowed the Holy Spirit to take me where He desired me to go. Allowing Him to guide and carry me on His wind of change and direction – finding HIS place for me, so that when I stopped it was soft, yet supportive. Sort of like where my husband was finally able to get the umbrella to stand upright and provide the shade and protection we needed.

You would think I would want to live there EVERY day – but control is so hard for me to give up sometimes. And that’s when my spirit and attitude can become so hardened.

Psalm 139:17-18 says “How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them, were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand.”

If God thinks on me as often as there are grains of sand, He MUST have some pretty cool dreams for me. And I want to see as many of them revealed as possible!

I want so much to be found more days on the soft powdery wind-blown side of that line in the sand.

Yes, it is more difficult sometimes to walk on the side that is giving and moving and ever changing…

But there is so much more growth and life there.