Waves of Grace

Before dawn, I stand on the sand where the water meets the shore and look out over the vast expanse, taking it all in. I adore the ocean breeze on my skin and the sound of the seagulls. The dancing waves are enchanting, and the sun cresting over the horizon never fails to bring a smile to my face.

Truthfully, the ocean ministers to me.

The Virginia horse country claims my roots, but the northeastern coast of Florida is my home. I have a deep love of horses in my bones, and I often run to the ocean to meet the sunrise. Maybe that’s why I’m most content astride a horse or on the beach—or even better, galloping the length of the shoreline. The steady pounding of a horse’s hooves and the rhythm of the waves are melodies to my ears.

God meets me at the beach. My soul feels absolutely at home walking the shore at sunrise. As the day breaks, hope wells up inside me. I enjoy watching the master artist paint the sky, and I soak in the warmth of the rising light.

My heart carries some hurtful memories; there have been seasons of storm-tossed seas in my life. But the salt air is a healing balm. I dig my heels into the sand, and step after step the world and its problems fade away. Over the pounding of the surf, I hear His whisper. I feel the Lord’s presence and know He’s walking beside me, even when joy and sorrow meet. Every smile and every tear are noticed by my loving Father.

The seagulls’ morning singing brings a song to my lips. I’m thankful God gifted me with a voice to sing His praises, and that He breathed me into being within the love of a musical family. Melodies and lyrics fill me—songs and psalms, stories and prayers. I mostly listen to praise and worship music now, but my mind often drifts back to the beauty of the old hymns. Music moves me; it is my favorite form of worship, responding with humble thanksgiving to the faithfulness of my Savior, who has never forgotten nor forsaken me.

Along with a passion for music, I enjoy reading and writing. Words leap off pages, probably inherited from my mother, who was a high school English teacher. The songs she wrote for our family to perform are tucked inside my heart in a very special place. Three are included at the end of this chapter.

The book you hold in your hands is my song—a pouring out and back, of sorts, to the waves of grace that sustain me. It is a love story. It traces the route of my life’s journey thus far. Like the sprinkling of wrinkles that prove I’m inching toward my fiftieth birthday, these pages reveal years that have been as unpredictable as the ocean, some calm and some stormy.

I’m a mother and a grandmother, yet my heart is as tender as when I was a child. I’ve weathered a few knee-buckling breakers, as well as some that have knocked me flat and left me gasping for air. First and foremost, I am God’s daughter and a woman grateful for the saving grace of Jesus Christ. Every favor and every trial are His.

The sweet innocence of my childhood echoes the words I remember so well: “Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so. Little ones to Him belong, they are weak but He is strong.” Although I gleaned my faith from my parents, it began to grow as they taught me scripture from the King James Bible and modeled God’s nurturing love.

My memories of church are pleasant. I accepted Jesus as my Savior when I was seven, during an altar call, but it was more a physical action than a response from my heart. I learned more about living a life of faith as I attended Sunday school and youth group, as well as watching my parents live out their faith on a daily basis.

Religion became an intimate relationship for me at the age of twenty-four. The moment my faith became personal remains imprinted on my heart. It was a cool September evening on a church trip that I welcomed Christ’s indwelling through the Holy Spirit. I felt an assurance, a blessing, like never before.

It is as true today as it was then: the Lord is my guide, my strength, my peace. Ever since that September night, I have pledged to myself and others, “God has a plan.” The role He’s writing for me, for my life, is part of His greater love story for the world. It’s perfect and purposeful even through betrayal, divorce, illness, addiction, and death. There are many things I’ll never completely understand on this side of heaven. But I look forward to reuniting with my mother and other loved ones one day, and I’ll see this truth face-to-face, when all things will be made known. I may not always understand or like God’s plan, but I trust the Planner.

Plumb starts her song affirming, “Well, everybody’s got a story to tell, and everybody’s got a wound to be healed.” Like her, I believe there’s beauty and meaning in pain. I know that in the hands of God, nothing is wasted.

The words on these pages are simply an act of obedience to the one who inspired me to write them down. The paragraphs are soaked with vulnerability, and this experience has been cathartic and liberating. I pray you will receive the genuine wonder and wonderfulness of God’s redeeming love with open hands.