The Dunes

It’s been a long time since I’ve written, and like always, I’ve changed a lot. I’ve been meaning to share, but that’s for another day.

Today is Saturday, which means it’s Sabbath. I’ve had a painful experience this morning, so I’ve come to my old stomping grounds–the dunes near my home–in the hopes of easing my emotional pain. I used to come here all the time, to get away alone with God and my thoughts and feelings. It was my sacred space. But it’s been a long time.

We live in a very windy city, and these dunes have grown and changed with the movement of sand upon them in the months I’ve been away. My first response to seeing them so changed from my previous visit was one of disappointment. It’s no longer familiar. My sandy seat is gone. The little caves and tunnels made by the native black beetles out here are completely buried. The pile of rocks I left here as a reminder are no longer here to remind me of anything.

I hardly recognize this previously sacred space, but I went back and read some of my previous posts before writing this one, and I hardly recognized myself in the writing either. I enjoyed reading what I’d written, loved it in fact. But there was a newness, an unfamiliarity, in the reading.

So here I am. It’s really cold out here. Really cold. The breeze from the snowy mountains keeps numbing my fingers so I have to take breaks in my writing. It reminds me of the months I’ve spent avoiding my craft, and I’m eager to get back to it.

An overly friendly bee keeps dive bombing my chilly ears. It reminds me of things the enemy, and life in general, send my way to nudge me off course. I’ve already moved out of his range three times since he started hounding me. The bee, that is. The enemy has been around much, much longer and has nudged me ceaselessly.

There’s no sign of the rattle snake I nearly stomped on in the one trek I took my family on through here, nor the baby rattler my daughter and I heard just off off the path we were on during a quiet walk this way last summer. This reminds me that some of the dangers of the past are gone… although they might just be underground waiting for a sunny day. In fact, it’s certain they are there, and waiting.

I’m going to take my weekly #SabbathSelfie here before I leave here. Then I’m going to return home and have a hot mug of tea and see if I can reconnect with the radiance of Sabbath in me. Looking around once more before I get up and go, enjoying the warmth of the sun in between the icy breezes, I can already feel it returning to me.

Thank You, Abba Father, for this most precious day, and for spaces that become sacred with the venturing there. And thank you that I’m finally writing again.