Sunday, February 14, 2010

High Tides

We went to the beach on Friday after work. Even though it was a national holiday weekend with no school on Monday, and Valentine’s weekend as well, we were still able to get a unit for one night at our favorite coast location, Depoe Bay! Our exchange student took a friend and they had a delightful time despite misgivings about going to the beach in “bad” weather.

There is no such thing as bad weather at the beach, is my opinion. You may want to stay indoors and look out the windows, or sit in front of the fireplace and read a book, but how can you possibly have a bad time at the beach?

Friday night we ate at The Sea Hag and, replete with good food, walked to the breakers and stood in the dark amazed at their power.


Saturday we walked on the beach at Fogarty Creek. The breakers were still so high! A local woman said she had not seem them like this in 30 years. Our girls said that in Vietnam they do not have big waves like this; the tide is really flat and “peaceful.”
I stood and watched the waves roll in. As they came, they seemed to pull out from underneath their path the very ground that they were advancing on. Sand and shells got drawn into their suction power and were turned over just like the motion of a front-loading washing machine.
The washing process intrigued me. Here we have the water powerfully picking up all the grunge, the dark underside, and turning it over as if shaking out a floor mat. The water grew dark at this stage.

Then, topsy-turvy, the wave brought the filtered tide back to ground to wash in at our feet, snowy and pure foam, lightness.

As the water sank away, a lace design remained on the sand.


How like life, I thought. How like being renewed in my mind. How like the Lord, to turn my spirit over, revealing the grungy underside, and clean me once again, making me pure and beautiful and content.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Gray Skies

Delta Violets

Gray skies
pushing downward
against me 
weighting my world
like concrete dust

February violets
pushing up
beside the sidewalk
a flicker of
color, a sweet

Gray unzips,
loosing rain
held captive by
chain link clouds
now thrown down
to earth

Pounded, buffeted
I dissolve 
melting, flowing
into puddles
storm drains carrying me
toward the delta

I sink
water closing 

Peace is a
death metaphor
designed by poets
who have never
for air

Delta violets
save me,
cushioning my fall 
into the deeps
lifting me
to the light.