I have been kind of frazzled this spring. There were signs of a shift in my coping skills.  Occasional sudden outbursts of temper. Irritability with my husband that I slowly recognized was probably not because he had mysteriously become more irritating. I noted a pressure-cooker feeling:  no matter how much I was doing, no matter how many hurdles I successfully completed, my legs straining fore and aft, there was another one ahead. I would discover a piece of the puzzle dropped. And too often the tail end of a day would find me hunched tub side upstairs bathroom, madly completing some paperwork, as the clock ticked toward midnight.

I love my life. I love its opportunities for creativity.

But sometimes you need to be a succulent. Sit like a blob. Soak up the sun. Drink water. And swell.

(Also, eat chocolate.)

Luckily, long before I began fraying at the seams I had made a plan to get away for a break this spring.  Edward is an excellent travel agent in every way. He needs very little encouragement to plan a trip, even if he isn’t going on it. He enthusiastically arranged plane tickets and hotel for a girl’s trip to Florida.

I am not good at doing nothing. But the longer I live the more important a life-skill I see in the ability to be still. To be present, but resting. Maybe gently rocking. Possibly eating chocolate.

It isn’t easy to relax.

One evening, I went out late onto the dark beach. Crossing the huge expanse of sand, struggling to see, I reached the firm edge of the Gulf.  I surprised a flock of sand pipers, still hunting in the dark at the edge of the waves. Lights of hotels sprawled behind me all down the island, but I turned my back on them and regarded the cloudy and starry sky. 

I thought of the tumult in our world, and the pain. I thought about people, and identity, and eternity. I spoke to the Gulf remembering that it was here first. Long before humans turned them to a profit, these waves rolled up upon this beautiful sandy shore. I sang a prayer, releasing and placing all of it in Divine capable hands. How many others in every age have stared into these stars wondering, and seeking peace?

I carry home today a little sand on my clothes. A few tiny shells with holes are ready to wire into my life. Some crushed wrappers of shared chocolate. Sisterhood. And seeds of peace.