And just like that, it stopped.
Only five minutes before, I had messaged my sister with the words, ‘It’s lashing!’ followed by a sad face emoji.
The disappointment of driving an hour to the North Coast, and seeing grey sheets of icy rain sweeping across the dunes of White Rocks beach, was enough to make me admit that perhaps it is worth trusting the weather app on my phone in future.
The weeks leading up to half term had increasingly produced a relentless clamour of anxious thoughts generated by a propensity to react emotionally to everyone and everything without the safeguards of logic or reason. The urge to jump in the car and drive until reaching the end of dry land, strengthened with the passing of every worry strewn day.
‘I just want to go and walk on a beach. I don’t even need it to be warm!’ was my Whatsapp cry the week previous, but I did definitely prefer it to be dry.
However, in less than the five minutes it took to pull into the car park at Portrush East Strand beach, the sky had cleared. Buffeted by the wind, we pulled on hats and coats, and careened over to the footpath.
The tide was in and there wasn’t much beach to actually walk on but it didn’t really matter. It was a joy to watch the waves crash, sending water racing all the way up to the sea wall.
The constant motion and magnitude of untameable power straining on an invisible leash is magnetic and awe inspiring.
Isn’t it just the simple pleasure of feeling the wind on your face and standing before the wide open wilderness of water that opens an inner door to let the agents of chaos out?
It makes me think of a wonderful sea related quote, from Anthony Doerr’s book, All the Light We Cannot See;
“It is my favorite thing, I think, that I have ever seen. Sometimes I catch myself staring at it and forget my duties. It seems big enough to contain everything anyone could ever feel.”
And then I think that this roaring, pounding, thunderous flood, belongs to God. I think I am as a speck of sand on the world’s shore, yet I belong to him too. And it makes me smile with the knowledge that just for me, he would very kindly stop the rain for a couple of hours, simply so I could enjoy this moment of staring at the sea, forgetting duties and daring to believe that there is someone who is big enough to contain everything that I could ever feel. The awareness of the might of God being exercised for the gentle care of your soul is confounding, humbling and exhilarating all at the same time.
‘The ocean depths raise their voice O Lord; they raise their voice and roar. The Lord rules supreme in heaven, greater than the roar of the ocean, more powerful than the waves of the sea.’ Psalm 93:3&4 (GNB)
We walked along the promenade and back again, taking pictures of the waves, leaning over the wall to watch the rocks disappearing and reappearing. We gazed as a surfer caught a wave and rode it perfectly all the way in, clapping the achievement enthusiastically despite the surfer being oblivious to the audience. A little dog raced along the edge of the water, while another barked at the crashing waves. We scrambled up the grass to the top of the nearest dune and laughed as the wind tore the breath from our lungs.
It was worth the journey. It always is.
And just as we turned to go home, the rain began again, as God gave it permission to fall once more.
