Pass the Salt

24 hours ago I was at the beach. I frolicked in the water, got my jeans wet, and let my dad bury me in the sand. On the way to the airport I admired the wavy line of white on my jeans created by the salt of the ocean water dried on my jeans. Three hours later, about to touch down at my home airport, there was salt on my cheeks. I wasn't ready to come home, and now, 24 hours later, I'm still not ready to be here. :(

Matthew 5:13 says "You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again?" My confirmation verses were Matt 5:14-16, and verse 16 says "let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven." At the age of 13, I chose these verses because they certainly represented (and still represent) who I am--full of bubbly, energetic light. It hurts to cut vacations short, to have my parents on one end of the country and my brothers on the other, and come home to only a cat (though do not underestimate the value of said cat). But it is the diversity of my experiences, both with vacation beaches and everyday cats, that give me my unique saltiness.

I had a friend in college, Braden (not to be confused with my newest friend, also a Braden), who I discussed with once "the name game." This is the game where you say, "I am Awesome Abigail" or "Stunning Stefanie." Well Braden and I discussed the crappy selection of "B" adjectives--we got tired of saying "We are Bodacious Braden and Beautiful Bailey." So we did a little research, and Braden discovered the term "brackish: having a somewhat salty taste, esp. from containing seawater." While it may not be an appropriate description in the literal sense, we enjoyed that it described us as flavorul people. If you think about it, we actually always probably taste a little bit salty, thanks to our sweat.

I feel I am at yet another crossroad in my life (I feel like ages 20-30 are one big crossroad, can I get an Amen?), explaining my tears yesterday. Part of my sorrow was that I just plain didn't want to leave the beach, the sunshine, the break from work and everyday boring life. Another part was that I didn't want to leave behind my parents, who so seldom get to see their children, and who are such brave, faithful stewards to journey to sunny California in their late 50's. I wish my mom, who's so talented, could have the employment she deserves. I know that me being with her doesn't solve that void, but it can offer her a happy interruption to the waiting. I also don't know what's next for me in life, grad school, boyfriend? :), different job, travel the world, travel the country, stay put? If I think about it all at once (let's face it, I do), I get overwhelmed. And scared. Really scared. And sometimes sad.

The tough thing about being brackish is that you have to get wet in the cold ocean sometimes to earn that cool little design on your jeans. And in the meantime, you have to wait to dry. That salt line doesn't appear instantly. The salt is there, but it's invisible to the eye while it's wet. As cliche as it is, how true is it that when we're in the storm it's impossible to see the light behind the clouds? But the truth is that the light is always there. Jesus told us to let our light shine (and not to let Satan "poof" it out), and to keep our salty taste. Admittedly, sometimes when I read verse 13 I think, "What?" But I also like the poetic metaphor it offers. Being told that we are salt and light is encouraging always, even when it doesn't make perfect sense.

I definitely wouldn't erase my past good memories just because there are bad memories interspersed with them. It's a joke with my friends and family that I can't go anywhere without either seeing someone I know or making a new friend. I am this way partly due to my father's gregarious genes, but a huge chunk of it comes from the fact that my family moved to a new city every few years while I was growing up. With each move came the unpleasant task of asking, yet again, "Can I sit with you at lunch today?" and making annoying, empty small talk, but you know who I got to know over one of those public school lunch tables? Big Bird. Haha, no. My best friend Corie. All those times being tossed around under the violent surf lead to glorious baths in the sunshine on my favorite bed of all time--the sand. When I laid down on the sand yesterday (moments before Daddy Dearest began kicking sand on me), I told my mom, "This is heaven for me."

All of this "chin up, trust in God" talk is easier said than done, obviously. When I am in a storm, I become terrified. I fall silent or ramble on about silly things to keep myself from feeling like I'm drowning. What I learn every time is that I am not in fact drowning, but that God washes me in the salt of each storm at sea, and gives me renewed energy and personality to tell others my stories, and His stories.

While I know God never leaves me alone in a storm, it often feels the opposite, so it is important for us to remind each other always that we, in addition to God, are here for each other during our storms. Feel free to share with me your storms, and I'll lift them up in prayer for you. I hope this blog is a little salt lick for you to snack on during your next storm. God's blessings to you all, until next time.