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SandStorm

March 12, 2012 by Southern Sea Muse

I am blessed to live and work in a place where I can slip away to the beach for an extended lunch hour, if need be.

Need be often.

We have FINALLY kissed off winter here. I have entered the season of sleeping with the windows WIDE open so I can fall asleep to the song of the crickets, arise to the bright, cheerful sun, and trust that if it’s going to rain, it’s gonna RAIN torrentially in this subtropical climate then git along and give way to the sun again.

What I forgot when I slipped away last week for said lunch hour, was my sunscreen.

Shee-yit. (I am not cursing, um, this is my dialect, right?)

It was only an hour, and I was there for a very, very worthy cause, believe you me.

I even stayed in my work clothes, not one stitch removed (collective gasp).

Problem was, it was windy as all get-out. This seemed friendly enough until I sat there the first few minutes and realized the fine, sugar-white sands were painfully whipping at me with great speed.

This stung.

I turned my chair after the first 30 seconds and endured a bit more, before I turned my chair again, away from the onslaught. I tucked my bag under my chair so grains of sand would not scratch my cell phone buried deep within, or get in the pages of my monthly devotional, or find their way into my beloved change purse I bought from the Insectarium in New Orleans (where I hide my tiny iPod shuffle which contains the secrets of my heart).

I finally adjusted to a direction where I was at least oblivious to most the pelting sands, to where I could collect myself and pray and think and relax and indulge…and veg. “Funny how your feet, in dreams, never touch the earth…”

That day last week marked the one-year anniversary of my fading in and out of consciousness as I was rushed from one hospital to another, where they performed what I was later told was known in the trade as a “slash-n-gash,” a last-ditch effort to save a life of one bleeding internally. Spare no décorum, they sliced me open, hoisted aloft my intestines, vacuumed out the blood and gore, and hoped I came to.

And by God’s grace and the prayers of the saints, I did.

I continue to be guts-challenged, but am a living testimony to the wonders of modern medicine. And while things have never quite been the same, I have been able to resume most of my normal routine, including running, parenting, wifery and other antics.

So I cruised down to the beach that day to thank God for sparing me, for giving me another year of life. It was awesome.

I cried out to God for taking the child a year ago that day who had a nonstop flight to Heaven instead of having a layover with us here. It was grievous.

I celebrated all things saved, and mourned all things lost.

Why me, Lord?

I watched the seagulls petition me for my lunch; no dice. I watched tourists play chicken with the waves. Waves: 1; Tourists: 0.

I watched the fishermen catch supper. I watched the sun go from over here to over there. And the sea laughed when a higher wave washed all too close to me and my chair with my bag underneath, and made me quickly pick everything up and hightail it about 8 feet north so I didn’t get soaked.

That was when I noticed the sand-drift, like a snow-drift. The wind had been blowing so hard, my bag underneath was all but buried in sand. The act of picking it up in haste to move away from high tide caused even more sand to fall into my bag. I didn’t care what the people behind me at the stoplight thought on my way back to work; I took every item out of my bag and diligently shook out the sand (we just did an analysis of my front porch; perhaps an analysis of what’s in my bag should be forthcoming).

And snap my WonderBra and call me astonished…I did the same when I got home and discovered that sand had invaded the netherparts of my body, despite being fully dressed. In work clothes. In the tightest of crannies. Wth.

Glory be, for the last 5 days I’ve been afforded the luxury of not needing a necklace. You see, on that day, I wore my string of pearls. I am not the type to think about removing it (my alma mater was known for us girls wearing pearls-n-sweats to class). Thus, in that li’l ol’ hour, Mr. Sun blessed me with a gentle sunburn which outlined my pearl necklace, causing me to appear as though I was wearing my pearls, 24/7. This came in handy on opening day.

Was it worth it? Y’all betcha!

Thanks, God, for yet another new lease on life, for saving me over and over and over again. For allowing me to live to experience the discomfort of sand in my bra and the pain of sunburn and the sting of loss. And for the satisfaction of living to tell all about it.

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Posted in Beach, Dreams, Faith, God, Inspiration, Life | Tagged Ectopic Pregnancy, Hope, Insectarium, Pearls, Running, Sand, South, Spirituality, Sunburn | 10 Comments

10 Responses

  1. on March 17, 2012 at 17:20 shoes

    Oh my what a year you have had. I am so sorry for your loss but am glad you made it through and are mending.
    Such a beautiful piece with the warm sand drifting in and out and around. We are still waiting, not so patiently, for spring where I live. Just this morning there were snowflakes mixed with rain and now the afternoon sun teases me through my window.


    • on March 18, 2012 at 08:52 Southern Sea Muse

      Thank you so much, Shoes. I will try to send some of this weather up and over in your direction.
      ~~ssm


  2. on March 14, 2012 at 21:24 Let's CUT the Crap!

    I’m aching for warm weather. We’ve had a couple of above normal days for March and I have Spring FEVER. Hate when that happens because I tend to have a disappointment hanging around the corner. I noticed today, though, that the farmer’s fields are GREEN with healthy weeds. The fields and lawns are not although other green shoot have been shot down a time or two because of sudden snow and are trying to come up again.


    • on March 14, 2012 at 21:40 Southern Sea Muse

      Isn’t that green beautiful?! Won’t be long…hang in there, lctc!
      ~~ssm


  3. on March 14, 2012 at 11:08 therestlessnest

    Looking out at a Wuthering Heights-ish Seattle day, I’m sifting that imaginary sand in my purse and sharing your gratitude. Thank you for writing so beautifully!


    • on March 14, 2012 at 20:55 Southern Sea Muse

      …and thank you, the restlessnest, for visiting this stretch of beach, sandstorm notwithstanding. If it’s any consolation, I encountered fogbanks on my commute both this morning and, rare as it is here, this afternoon, and I thought of you Pacific Northwesterners!
      ~~ssm


  4. on March 14, 2012 at 07:31 The General's Wife

    Classic!


    • on March 14, 2012 at 20:56 Southern Sea Muse

      Thanks, General’s Wife! Hope you’re getting some great surfing in this spring…
      ~~ssm


  5. on March 12, 2012 at 22:40 allthingsboys

    Sounds like a rough year, and a day in the warm sun is the ultimate cure! Love the post! Prayers for continued peace.


    • on March 12, 2012 at 22:57 Southern Sea Muse

      Thank you, allthingsboys, and thanks for your prayers with me on the beach. Love your posts, btw – can so relate.
      ~~ssm



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