The Case for Stripping (and other theological postulations)

It's been a long two weeks. Today was friggin' hot. Obviously there was only one thing to do this afternoon:

It was our first beach outing of the year, and we did it right: lots of laughable mistakes and even more fun. It was almost like I was putting together my audition tape for Modern Family. When I looked at the forecast early this week I'd planned to do this little trip. I had a doctor appointment after school, so I figured I'd go from there to pick up Ben and we'd head straight to the beach. I even put a bag in the car this morning with some items so that I would be prepared (this is the part where God starts to chuckle). I told Ben when I dropped him off this morning that we'd go to the beach when he woke up from his nap, and when I picked him up he was already stoked. I asked if he wanted to stop and get french fries for a treat/snack on the way, and he said no, he just wanted to go to the beach (I stopped anyway, and shocking, he wanted some). We drove down, and he talked the entire way there about how excited he was. There was some traffic going down the peninsula, which I expected, but it wasn't too bad. We got to our favorite spot and parked; Ben's excitement levels had reached a fever-pitch. And that's when I realized I hadn't thought to bring quarters. We were seriously feet away from the sand, and I had no quarters. It was still an hour and a half before the meters would be off, and despite my frantic digging through the purse and the car, no quarters. I told Ben we couldn't go to the beach, but maybe the park. Worst. Mom. Ever. He refused. It was Beach or Bust. I headed to the closest grocery store I knew of--Newport businesses will not give you one solitary quarter more than would be required in your change. And I didn't have any cash anyway, so I'd have to get cash then buy something then get quarters with my change. Of course the nearest grocery store had literally been torn down. So I had to go all the way back to Costa Mesa to the next nearest grocery store, which I wasn't sure was open because I knew they'd recently remodeled. Oh, they were open alright. They were having their Grand Opening celebration, as a matter of fact. It had literally been open for thirty minutes. And they had a parking lot full of food trucks, radio stations, and customers to prove it. If I went any deeper inland I might as well go home, so I braved the Grand Opening. For quarters. I bought a bottle of water and asked for $10 cash back, with $1 in quarters. But no, they just opened, so she didn't have any quarters. Any. Sigh. So I took my bottle of water and $10 and went to the CVS next door. I asked Ben if he wanted a new bucket and shovel (thinking you can usually get a dinky little set for $2 at most. He said yes and got all excited. But they didn't have any. They only had $10 sets. If you do the math, you'll realize that I would not be getting any quarters back.  So if anyone's keeping score, I've now devastated my little boy twice by promising and failing to deliver on both the beach and new sand toys. So I got some licorice and told him he'd get to have a treat. Because apparently the french fries were not enough crap for the day. At any rate, we finally had our quarters, plus some water and candy, and we went back to the beach. I parked, put five quarters in the meter, and the meter stopped giving me time after 30 minutes. Two wasted quarters, and thirty minutes short of 6:00. Whatever. I was done. We went to the beach. The last thing I needed was a ticket, but I didn't care. We couldn't turn back now. But I made a mental note to get a job where I'd end up with plenty of $1 bills so I could easily get quarters.

Totally worth it.

Confession: I have an irrational fear of swimming in the ocean. True story: the weekend of my eleventh birthday I went on a beach camping trip with the Bible Club of my middle school, where I got sucked under by the undertow and almost drowned (that might be a tad hyperbolic, but whatever), stung by a jellyfish, and ditched by all my friends. Best. birthday. ever. So I don't swim in the ocean. But I've got a little Nemo on my hands with Ben. The kid can't get enough of it. He seriously will just throw himself face-first into the oncoming waves, and laugh with joy if he gets swept out to sea. Let's just say it's a good thing I'm standing in water when he does this, cause otherwise things would get embarrassing. So going to the beach with him is very stressful, with him rushing headlong into the tide and me on the verge of a stroke on account of the anxiety.
But today something special happened. While I was trying not to hyperventilate every time the tide came in, I had this thought. It's good to have a healthy fear of the ocean--it's very powerful and can be very dangerous. You should never be absolutely fearless in something that could legitimately kill you. And as a parent, I need to carefully watch and help my son both learn that and learn to swim safely. But that whole healthy fear is a lot like how we should approach God, isn't it? I mean, let's not get irrational. The ocean is powerful, but good. God is powerful, but good.

The first half-dozen times the waves or undertow knocked Ben over, I freaked out, dove in (no swimsuit for me, by the way), grabbed him by the rash guard, and dragged him back, while he of course squealed with glee. Then I tried to calm down. I tried to step back and let him work through it (within reason, of course). And wouldn't you know, after a couple of falls, he figured out that when he got knocked on his back he could flip over immediately and push himself up. And after a couple of those, he figured out that if he planted his feet firmly in the sand and just let the wave come in and out, he wouldn't fall at all.

So that's what the ocean and my son taught me today. That God is powerful, but good. That sometimes I will get knocked flat on my back, but I need to flip myself back over and push myself back up. And if I plant my feet firmly enough, I maybe won't fall at all.