worth living for

So you 'member how back in September I got stuck in a rip current of sorts?  and the waves chewed me up and spit me out?  OK.  Well, about that same time I had a church planning meeting with my team teacher and a guy from the bishopric.  We met at Temple Hill in Oakland following a conference.  I wasn't feeling so great, my emotional legs were pretty wobbly and I was having quite the time of it trying to keep my crap together.  I should have just bailed on the meeting, but I thought I could keep it together long enough to make some plans, and then we could all go our merry ways.  I didn't make it.  About ten minutes into the meeting I kinda had a melt down.  OK.  Not kinda.  I was a bawling mess.  After several failed attempts to reclaim lost ground, I finally called it, apologized profusely, and told them I just needed to go home.  It was beyond humiliating.  As I was walking to my car I saw another car drive up, one I shouldn't have recognized, but I did.  It was my old mission president and his wife, the Joneses.  They have been serving as missionaries in San Francisco's Chinatown, teaching English and supporting a little branch there, and had come up to the temple with some folks who were interested in learning more about Christianity in general, and Mormons in particular.  I called out to them, Sister Jones, recognizing me, held her arms wide and called back an invitation and greeting.  Running over, I tried not to cry.  What amazing timing!  We talked for just a minute, as they were busy about their Father's business, but a minute was all I needed.  That minute bore uncanny resemblance to another time, not so very long ago, when these same two precious people had shown up just in time to catch me before I hit the ground.  The short reunion served as a kind of safety halter, holding me just this side of panic.

The following day the guy from the meeting said he was going to the beach to take pictures and wondered if I'd like to come along.  As the beach is always a good idea, and knowing him to be the sort of person who could enjoy sitting all day on a rock staring at the place where the water meets the sky, I agreed.  So we went, cameras in hand, to see what world had to tell us.  We didn't talk much, which suited me very well; I still felt gray and drawn from the day before.  After quite a lot of time in the sand and sun we decided to head home.  The ocean tonic had begun its healing work, and on the way home we had a little conversation.  I asked him if he liked being alive.  He said that he did, I asked why.  After giving it some thought he talked about some simple pleasures and how those things gave him joy.  I tried to think of things I was happy to be alive for, but in my depressed stupor I just couldn't hold them.  Like trying to grab a shell or stone being pulled seaward in a retreating wave.  I could see it, I could almost grab it!  Almost.

I've thought a lot about that conversation over the last several months.  As I've come back to life I've been able to collect moments from the retreating waves to put in my pocket for the next time the big waves come.  I've filled my proverbial pockets with fruit from the farmer's market, shells from the beach, moments when I've been able to laugh freely with Emma and Beeb, time spent learning new skills, acquiring new information about this world I live in.  My pockets are quite full.

Last Monday I went with two friends to the beach, one was my quiet beach buddy from September, the other my new photographer friend.  It was low tide and the mysterious littoral world was available for close inspection.  Late in the day the three of us sat on a beach blanket facing the water.  It was starting to get cold, but we weren't quite ready to call it quits.  As I was trying to hold that moment it hit me.  Worth living for.  It had been a day worth every previous pain.  I mean, if all Life's previous pains had been the required price of admission for that day I realized it was price I would pay again.  Over the last two months I've had many such days!  Days worth living for.   And I cannot help but laugh!  God is so good to me.