Peter, Peter

It wasn't too long ago that I embarked on an adventure.  Although, I find myself on an adventure that wasn't in my plans and each day has been a little bit of a battle.

Just to catch you up to speed...
I've recently stepped out of my boat.
I've started on a journey that's not exactly on solid ground.
I'm fully aware of the fact that no person can actually walk on water.
And yet I've been tempted to see if I am so special that maybe I could.

This morning I woke up feeling anxious. I couldn't take my eyes off my boat. It had drifted just far enough away that I felt I could never make the swim back. Panic-stricken, I look to the sides and saw monstrous waves waiting to barrel overhead and swallow me whole. If waves had eyes, these were staring me down. I felt my feet begin to slip beneath the surface of the water. And in the midst of my noisy sea all I could hear was this: 

Are you looking at the water, Peter, or are you looking at me? 

I know my name isn't Peter, but I recognized the voice and knew to whom it was directed.

I was looking at the water. I was drowning and all I could do was describe the strength of the waves and how deep they seemed to be. But then I heard that voice. It was The One who whispered to me about this adventure, knowing that danger and excitement lied ahead. The One who recently told me that this will be my best year yet. The One who has led me by still waters and fed me green grass before I ever got out of my boat.

So, I changed my gaze. I looked up; the raging waters only in my peripheral. And there, right in front of me, I found peace.

Lessons in Learning How to Rest, Part Nine.

Lesson Nine: Know your seasons.

I moved to The Beach a couple weeks ago. And I know I always say that I live at The Beach. But this time I moved, quite literally, to the ocean's doorstep. As in, I walk outside, cross the street, and I'm there. Toes in the sand. Salt air in my face. Sunshine and fog all around.

A few months before this fabulous decision to move, I had a sad break-up. A break-up that I saw coming down the pike that wasn't so sad because of the person about to leave, but because I knew the next season of self-growth that I had been skillfully avoiding was knocking at my door. And I didn't like the haunting feeling that I was about to hurt in yet another way. Felt like Scrooge anticipating the arrival of the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come. But I knew that it was time to leave my season of heartbreak and bravely submit myself to a season of healing.

It took the entire four months, one-third of 2011, for my little heart to heal. A time for all those shattered pieces to be gently gathered up, connected together, and for my heart to feel like it could truly beat on its own. And while four months doesn't sound like a long time, it was tough for this City Girl to be all alone. In fact, it was the first time I was decidedly alone in about 2 years. I had turned down dates, set-ups, any prospective males of any kind in hopes that my time alone would reveal some great truth about life or love. Instead, those four months were used to get me back on my feet and able to stand up tall against the corrupt winds of charm, possessed by the everyday douche bag, that seem to whisk toward me on a weekly basis. Those four months were an emotional bootcamp, of sorts, that prepared me to raise my bar when it comes to all things love related.

And now I live at The Beach. Which to anyone else may not mean a whole lot. But to this City Girl it means a new season. Being a solid 15 minutes outside of The City, this part of The Beach is sleepy, quiet and completely unassuming. This place is peaceful. And I can now say, without doubt in my mind, this new season will be one of restoration.

Stay tuned...