A Summer Memory – Discovering the Divine in Ocean City, NJ

When I was maybe four I remember my dad coming home with a blue plastic kiddie wading pool that got stuck in the side yard and filled with cold hose water. I can see mom and dad sitting beside it in rickety lawn chairs, the kind with woven thin wide plasticky straps, white with a colorful pattern, stretched over an aluminum frame. It seemed so fun and exotic, being in water outside! In the yard! Now I understand it was the thing a young family on a tight budget would do for fun, but my comparison at that time was not pools or hot tubs or the ocean, it was the bathtub, so this felt like the most delightful turn of events. This kind of beginner’s mind excitement is not to be underestimated, the memory is of pure fun.

And then we went to Ocean City New Jersey and I thought my little brain would explode in joy. Miles of beach, not just a sandbox, and an infinite ocean. Ocean City was a dream for a little kid (the boardwalk! the food! the rides!) but my best memory was jumping in the waves with my parents on either side of me, holding tightly to my hands. I would see a wave come rolling at me, taller than my head, and they would, at the last minute, pull me up into the air so that my head stayed above the water while the wave yanked violently at my body, as if trying to separate me from them. In retrospect, I doubt the waves were past their thighs, but it felt wildly dangerous and thrilling. To simultaneously feel the thrill of danger while safe and protected by their firm grip on either side was the absolute best. I think, without  knowing it, they were showing me how God works.

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