“And (Jesus’) mother stored all these things in her heart."
~ Luke 2:51
The beach was her go-to
place. Some folks like homey coffee
shops. But for Margaret, the sea’s briny
aroma was like an elixir, it tasted like home.
Despite the heat, she found herself frozen in place. The waves rolled in white tipped, spreading
themselves like fine lace over the beach.
There’s something revealing about the quiet whisper of waves sharing the
ocean's melodies.
Today it was the
memories of summers long ago with children she adored.
It had been late afternoon, almost time to leave the
beach. The light had already begun
fading into liquid gold, but it was so warm no one was in a hurry to leave. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she
remembered calling for them as they scampered up the beach, yellow bucket in
hand.
She’d been fretting all afternoon about the invitation to
her best friend’s wedding. Unfortunately
Janet lived in Australia. Traveling
there was a luxury she simply couldn’t afford.
She’d told her husband earlier that morning the only way she could go
was if she “got rich quick.”
Margaret looked up at the twins as they approached. They were so “busy.” They’d worn her out by simply watching them
running and swimming and playing in the water for hours.
The twins stood there holding a plastic bucket in their
hands. It had been heavy and took both of them to hold it.
They were dirty; their hair tousled with sand. There had been something about their smiles: the way butterflies seemed to escape from his stomach; the way the sun had
somehow toppled from the sky and made a home right in her heart.
“You brought for me?” Margaret remembered asking.
“You said you needed to get rich fast,” Tammy said, “So me
and Tommy collected all these pretty shells from the shore to make
necklaces! We haven’t looked at all of
them but we hope there’s a pearl for you too!
That way you could go to ‘Aunt” Janet’s wedding!” she grinned.
Their happiness had been so infectious. There they’d stood, so proud of themselves,
holding a treasure bucket of hundreds of little shells.
She’d hugged them closely, not minding the mess they’d made
of her sun dress. “You’ve made me the richest person on earth! And faster than anyone could have imagined!
And Margaret hadn’t been talking about monetary wealth.
The light wind here still carries their voice and sweet
kisses. She stood up, face to the breeze
and felt the sand retreating with the tide as the sun’s flaring hues melted
into the sky. Just for a moment she was
a young mother again.
Oh how she missed those days.
Thank you, Lord, that you fill a mother’s heart
with love, for nurturing them, teaching them, comforting them and for leading
them to know and do what is good, living not for themselves alone, but for God
and for others. Amen
