The stage is set. Its 2:30am and my child is currently calm after her 2 hour night-waking escapade. I’m waiting in the living room to see if she will wake herself up again. I’m curled up under a blanket, warm and soft, and the world is quiet.
Then it comes, the warm feeling stretching up from the soles of my feet; This Holy ground transforming me from the ground up. I close my eyes and feel my feet in cool water as another wave sloshes past me. I smell the fresh sea breeze that fills my lungs with deeper breaths than I had known. I hear waves and gulls. I’m balling up my dress in my hands to keep the hem from being soaked, but as it pools around my shins I don’t seem to care when a gentle wave plays with it.
Then I hear a voice behind me that’s as sure as the rising sun and as familiar as Home.
“The surf is washing your feet.”