I know that you all have been losing sleep as you wonder what my final 3 reasons could be [probably just as much as I have lost trying to compile them]!! Reason number 3 is as follows: I must commit to writing about the same topic until the series is finished and God inspires on His own schedule. Committing to a series means not committing to other things. I like to write when and where the spirit moves me, not on a schedule. This is part of the reason that I never want to write for a living. Instead, I write to live.
Meanwhile…
My Beach Settlement
I used to live on a rock. It stood fast and unmoved. The fortress that I had there was strong so that no enemy could come against it successfully. Its foundation went deep into the Earth so that nothing could shake it. It took many years to build, but I did not do it. I inherited it before the world began.
This rock that I lived on was near a beautiful beach. It had palm trees and views of the ocean that would make any vacation-dreamer salivate. The ocean was bluer than the brightest blue and the sounds of the waves were soothing and calming, almost too calming. For the beach called to me. It said, come and enjoy me. I will give you lush life on my soft sand near the palms. Nothing grows on that rock of yours. I have the ocean at my fingers and the sun is brighter here than in the shadow of your walls.
And so, I determinedly left the rock – its strength and safety – and moved out of my citadel to the beach. It was so beautiful there. I had so much more freedom than the “prison of rock” that I had dwelled in previously. I could walk endlessly on the beaches, feeling the sand between my toes. The shade of the palms was a cool and refreshing break from the sun that shone on the ocean and reflected brightly onto my baked skin. Why didn’t I settle hear first, I thought. Its pleasures far outweigh that grimy old rock!
But then, the storm came. I found that the foundation I had built for myself on the sand was shaky… in fact, it was less than shaky – it was non-existent! The beauty of the beach ran toward ruin. The fierce waters swept away the life that I had built there on the soft sand. I was taken out to sea. In all of my time living on the beach, I had never learned to swim. I clutched a piece of palm that had surfaced from the wreckage in the waves. I spluttered for breath. In the distance, I saw my rock fortress, standing firm through the storm.
Its foundation was deep into the Earth so that nothing could shake it. When the storm quieted, the sun came out again, shining down on that fortress. I wanted so desperately to be back in my old home, thinking of the beautiful gardens within the walls of the stronghold that I had forsaken to the lure of the beach. On my rock, there also lived an old man. He was not much to look at, but he was wise. He had advised me to stay on the rock, but I had the beach on my mind. Its pleasures had outweighed the enduring word of that old man.
My life now hung on a small scrap of wood, waiting for the sun to dehydrate or the sea to swallow. I was full of self-loathing and without hope. Why did I think the beach was better just because of its fading façade? The tide continued to take me further and further from my home. And now, I was losing my hold. The end was near.
The old man from my citadel came to my rescue just then, in a rickety little boat that we kept in the guards’ quarters. He pulled me into the boat and as I collapsed on the floor, I honestly said, “Thank you.” This was, perhaps, the first truthful thank you I had spoken to this dear friend. His smile gave me life and hope, but he said, “Maybe next time, you’ll listen… but probably not. In any event, I’m patient.”
