I love going to the ocean. Perhaps what I love best is being in the water, especially when there are waves rolling in, serene and powerful at the same time. I love this so much that when I am visiting my family and able to be at the ocean, I have been known to body surf in the Atlantic Ocean as early in the season as May, when water temperatures are often in the low 50s. Watching and, even more, contending with waves has taught me a lot – about timing, resistance, safety, risk, synergy, and surrender.
A few years ago, I started this study of waves after spending the day at the beach with my family for the first time in years. It was really the first time I spent a substantial amount of time playing in the water as an adult. I was awed by the feeling of catching a wave just at the right moment, letting it amplify my own efforts and carry me up and forward – it was amazing, like having a superpower. “This is what waves are FOR!” was my one thought. I looked back at times when I’d reluctantly braved the cold water only to be slapped at by the waves for a few minutes before turning in to warm up, and I really mourned the missed opportunities I’d had to embrace the waves in their chaos and order and enjoy them. I thought, too, about “waves” in life that I’d resisted instead of embracing and so suffered rather than letting them propel me forward, and I resolved to surf life’s waves more than fight them.
The year after that, the waves were tremendously strong one day, and breaking deeper out than I dared venture. I could really only enjoy the waves by diving into them just before they hit me and letting them wash over me. This, I found, had its own thrill: that of being touched gently by something with terrible power. Instead of riding the waves, I surrendered to them and let their crashing become caressing. Again I had a “Eureka” moment: waves can be ridden OR they can be slipped into! And so with life – difficult things, painful things, and even powerfully good experiences in life can be like waves out too deep for my strength. Sometimes I’m just not ready yet to ride them to new growth. But I can dive into them, acknowledge them, and let them slip by me.
This year, I was out in the waves a lot with my niece and nephew – age 5 and nearly 7. My niece Sylvia especially loves the water and, like me, has a bit of a wild streak and an affinity for waves. I was a little afraid that she’d be reckless and, in fact, she often tried to go out deeper than I was when the waves were friendly and gentle, rolling by without too much drama. I had to remind her many times to hold my hand, or at least let me hold on to her life vest, and she resented this apparent adult intrusion on her freedom. But when a really big wave came, one that would break right on us or right before reaching our depth, Sylvia would position herself between me and the wave and shout: “LIFT ME! LIFT ME! LIFT ME!” Of course, I would lift her up, so high the white tops would just tickle her legs – and so take the brute force of the wave myself. This method of enjoying the waves was not quite as relaxing as riding them or diving through them. It required a lot of effort, meant that I often got salt water thrown in my face, and also was slightly nerve-wrecking (What if I lost my grip? or didn’t get her high enough?). But it was deeply satisfying to place myself at the service of my niece, to allow her to enjoy something she wasn’t actually big enough to dive into without help. I was a mediator between her and the water that otherwise could actually be deadly.
A few weeks after I got home from visiting my family, I received a postcard from my niece. It said, in five-year-old scribble: Dear Emily [my baptismal name!], Thanks for lifting me over the waves! I <3 U, Sylvia.
This simple message has been unfolding in my heart ever since. After all, as ambassadors for Christ and co-workers with Him, we are called to place ourselves at the service of others, lifting them over the waves of life. We are all in need of a lift as well from time to time! I’ve started asking myself, “Am I lifting this sister over that wave – or am I throwing salt water in her face?” “I was willing to brace myself against the waves for my niece – will I do the same for this person I’m working with in ministry?” “Did I ask for a lift when I was approached by a wave too big for me, or did I try to pretend I was strong enough to take it alone?”
I am trying to learn how to “read the ocean” of life a little better these days – and to be more sensitive to my fellow wave-surfers. May God also help you to ride, surrender to, and stand up against the waves in your lives.
-Sr. Agnes Therese Davis, T.O.R.
