Waves

Memories wash over me like the perpetual waves of a lake or an ocean. They never stop. You only need to be open to going to that place, to remembering those things. And then they come. Memories you would rather forget. And hopefully mostly ones you are happy to cherish. In your heart of hearts those memories dwell. Sometimes for years or even decades, they wait for you to open the door and invite them in.

I’m standing here on the beach with these waves that have been washing up on the shore since I was 10, and since countless years before I first came to this place as a boy. Sandy Bay, on Lake Winnipeg, Manitoba.

And then I think of memories like these waves I hear and see, that continuously wash up on my own shore. But even if I’m a few feet away, or over the dunes protected from the wind, the roar of the waves disappears and becomes a distant sound, easily dismissed. The sun sets on the memories, the tumbling of the water on the sand fades. I’ve forgotten who I am again and I walk on, I walk away.

I walk away from the years that formed me. Away from what made me who I am. Away from the constant reminder that creation never stops imitating the Creator like waves never stop crashing on the shore. Even the powerful, eternal voice of the waves, can be dulled by the roar of the world I live in.

There is a forever-ness in waves. A never ending-ness. These waves wash over me. They remind me who I am. What I mean is, they are memories that find me in this place and bring me back to my forgotten true self. In their vastness there is a simplicity that, even now, brings perspective to the beauty of a Creator that desires the same thing for me that I do.

To have the courage to wade back into the water, ever deeper, to face my past memories and dream about my future, and discover new depths and new truths, and then share them with the scores of people who, like me still stand on the shore, or just keep walking away…

  • note: this photo was taken at Sandy Bay, MB the day that I sat on the very same shore when wrote this journal entry