Soft Sand

Soft sand. Those were the first two words that crossed my mind as I arrived at the beach, I'm going to have to run on soft sand. The tide is in. The soft sand makes me get tired faster. It's like it sucks your foot up with every step and you feel like you have to wrestle with silly putty to get it free. I really don't like running on soft sand, but that doesn't seem to stop my friend from delivering the barbs intended for motivation as he jogs, at my pace, able to have a full conversation, with each word being articulated and clear, while I sound like a muddled mess. Each word, I attempt to free, sounds like pleas of help from a gasping drowning victim. I say all of that to say that it was a tremendous time, complete with a line of seaweed as victory tape marking my triumphant moment. I like the beach.

This weekend was complete. I got to hear how a friend (I'll have to come up with an original nickname for her), who's taken up a new sport, did well in her first foray into the competitive arena. I was able to spend some time with my sister who giggled and brought her vivacious, endearing spirit to lunch with me and mom. I walked on the beach with Shawna and Rika finding myself amused at the contrasting looks on their faces. Their eyes were saying this is absolutely beautiful. Their noses and mouth had a different opinion as they crinkled up trying to filter the funk known as seals. They smell like a bunch of wet baby diapers; their was no argument to be found with them considering the looks on their faces.

Sunday ended the weekend. I laughed hard, got annoyed a couple of times (who doesn't annoy me), and heard some life changing sermons. I even found myself amused when a friend told me that he couldn't wait to watch a movie because he felt like it would change his life. Ha ha, I thought, a movie changing your life. Seriously? Before I could finish that last sigh after a good chuckle, I remembered some of the movies that made my life different, how I still think about them, how I look to them for inspiration, how I wish to be as heroic and iconic as the characters in "The Power of One," "Life is Beautiful," "X," and "Like Water for Chocolate," real or imagined, those films told a story that captured my heart and made it subject to responsibility.

PB and Pastor Miles allowed God to use them to say things that I will take with me as I enter into this week. PB said that we are saved unto good works and it is our good works that allow us to demonstrate our faith. Pastor Miles said that we are to make a good name for ourselves, and to ask God to show us his favor. As both examples play out in my mind, I think of Rachel. What a beautiful person, and how blessed I've been to be able to hear her play her saxophone, hear her British accent, see her smile and listen to her encouraging words. I feel that I'm a better musician because of her, she made me want to learn how to play melodies; she's made a good name for herself by doing good works. I will miss how she'd lean against the wall in band practice, after she'd run through her scales. I will miss how she'd start playing, look over at Jerry with the, "Am I in the right key look?," then close her eyes and play a melody that mimicked the songs of the angels. I will miss the smile that would jump off her face when we'd all starting acting goofy when Tina would say, "Ok guys, let's play it one more time." Good times and good memories; I don't know if I was the only one, but the dedication PB led on her behalf, left a lump in my throat. All the water I drank after church wouldn't take it away. Oh, I think a need a glass now.