Where Are The Waves of My Youth?

Where are the waves of my youth?
The giant walls of green ocean brine?
The ones that called me to step in then tossed me out. 
 A ball in a game of catch between Old Man Sea and the warm sands of the shore.
 Where are the waves of my youth?

           

As I child I would stand at the water’s edge, timing my entry for just the right moment, that one moment to dive into and under the cascading effervescent foam of the rolling wave, stretching into to a weightless world of adventure as it receded back into itself.

The waves of my youth, inviting me to come and play, to come and live carefree under the caressing rays of the summer sun and hungry wails of the herring gull.

Towering undulating walls of salty brine hammering down upon the earth in a cascade of foam. “Enter if you dare!” they’d roar if they could speak. But they did not speak, except through the thunderous agitating crash upon the soaked earth beneath it, then the recoiling hissing in it’s final reach to shore.
 

In I would go, headlong into liquid just before the break. Occasionally I would be too late and get tumbled and tossed about like a shard of sea glass. Ingesting, along the way, what seemed like gallons the salty brine that is the Pacific Ocean. Then I would pop up to the foaming surface like a cherry on top of an ice cold Shirley temple. The air filled with ocean spray and my laughter. My arms and legs would be flailing about as I tried to maintain my head above the smooth undulation of the swelling tide. With each peddle push downward; my feet would stretch and search for terra firma so that I could start a slow motion gait to the next liquid wall of adventure.

Where are the waves of my youth?

I went to the ocean today and stood waste high holding the gentle, frightened hand of my youngest daughter and looked out into The Pacific. Under the golden hue of the late afternoon sky I stood and thought, “I remember the waves being much larger when I was a child…where are the waves of my youth?” With each tickling set I wondered, "...where have the waves gone?"

Deep in contemplation, as my feet sunk into the soaked sand, with each receding tide, I turned and looked down at my daughter. She was in a state less than contemplative as she stretched her neck and head upward to avoid any contact with the water.

It was at that moment that it occurred to me, the waves of my youth are still here! They had not receded in the horizon after all! No! It is I who has grown.

At a mere 36 inches tall, these small waves that I scoff at now are like a swell at Mavericks to my daughter. She stands there with me, not in deep retrospect, but in a giant yearning to return to the safety of sand castles on the damp cool shore, far enough away from the undulating taunt of the old sea.

Where are the waves of my youth?

My youth may have evanesced, but the waves – the waves are still here! Alas, it is I who have grown! And the lesson, so it seems, that what appears today like an unconquerable, relentless tide, will one day, in retrospect, be only waist high. And it is by faith that I step into liquid and join the adventure. It is by faith that I am carried through the churn and come out on the other side - my face emerging smiling and embraced by warmth of the sun.

-- Isaiah 41:13  For I the LORD your God will hold your right hand, saying unto you, Fear not; I will help you.

-- Matthew 6:27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?

As I stood on the oceans edge holding my daughters hand, He stands with me holding my little hand and carries me through the waves. Life, like the ocean’s tide, is relentless; but with each tumble and stumble I grow stronger and am ready for the next wave. And until that next wave, I rest weightlessly in the undulating gentle tide.

Where are the waves of my youth? 
Have they faded and become lore?
Oh no! For they are still there.
Only it is I,
It is I who have grown!