Having once again ventured out to the edge of the world, that is, the coast of California, I have lived to tell the tale of its wonders bright and blue. The first day came with a puff of gray as well, but it only served to sharpen the contrast.
I drove out to Point Arena in order to plant my folding chair on a cliff overlooking the wide expanse of the Pacific, and to drink in its marvels. There was a gray and somewhat unstable-looking fog bank out at sea, and I hoped and prayed that it would stay right where it was. Coastal weather is wholly unpredictable, and the fog comes and goes as it pleases (but sometimes it doesn’t go once it comes). I got comfortable and settled in for a morning of glittering seascapes, to the tune of the gulls and other sea-birds, whose distant squeaks and squawks ricocheted pleasantly off the rock formations standing sentinel in the shallows. But after 20 or 30 minutes, the outcroppings to the south were becoming somewhat obscure—the fog was moving in! Slowly but inexorably it overtook me, setting ever-tighter boundaries to the stretch of the sea. It began to grow chilly, and I zipped up my jacket.
Patiently I prayed my prayers of acceptance as the swirling mist grew ever closer. But I noticed something interesting about this particular fog. It stayed fairly close to the water and did not cover the whole sky, so the sun was still able to toss patches of blue across the heavens. This had the curious effect of keeping the blue-gray sea sparkling while the fog continued to advance. Even though I preferred a perfectly clear day, the Lord likes to show
me sometimes the variations of beauty of which He is capable of producing.
As the fog thickened, however, I protested that things were getting less beautiful by the minute. But I contented myself to close my eyes and just listen to the surf, which is relentlessly relaxing, fog or no fog. I was glad that I didn’t just leave in a huff, muttering about how seldom I get to the sea, and why did it have to be foggy today, etc. I just thanked the Lord that I could be in such a restful place. I opened my eyes after a while and noticed that a strong south wind was forcing the cloud bank to hasten northward up the coast. In a short time all things were bright and blue again!
All in all, I spent at least two hours there, perhaps only 45 minutes of which were fenced in by the fog. This had a double advantage. I had forgotten what a fiery sunburn one could get in two hours of sun on unprotected skin, so the misty interval made sure I received only a mild roasting. The other advantage, of course, was the opportunity for a little spiritual reflection. We tend to want things our own way—and have all sorts of reasons why they in fact ought to be that way—but then the Lord rains on our parade or casts fog upon our ocean. What’s going on here? Well, sometimes He wants us to break out of our old and perhaps narrow or tired habitual ways of thinking and acquire a new perspective, like noticing that water can still sparkle through a light fog. Maybe too He will test us with a wall of total gray. What will we do? Walk away complaining? Give in to resentment or self-pity? Or will we ride it out, trusting that He knows what He’s doing, that He has more bright sunshine and deep blue sea to share with those who will stick with Him, come what may?
Marveling at the ceaseless succession of waves, I remembered that God is sometimes called (even in our Divine Office) the Ocean of Mercy. I realized that we need those endless waves of mercy if we are to experience full healing of the soul. The psalmist was not content to ask the Lord simply to wash away his sin, but he said: “wash me more and more from my guilt, and cleanse me of my sin.” The everlasting procession of ocean waves reminds me of the “more and more,” and I give thanks.
I returned to the place we were staying (only about 20 miles away) and was told that the
fog had hardly even come near. Was that experience just for me? I don’t know, but I walked out into the back yard (can’t walk very far before you fall into the sea) and sat down to ponder still another bright and blue view of oceanic majesty. It was as if the glory of the Lord had settled upon the sea. There’s nothing, in my opinion, as soothing as the sound of surf, or as serenely entrancing as the dance of myriad sun-diamonds in their endless kaleidoscopic patterns on the surface of the deep. This ever-mesmerizing light show could only have been designed by a Mind Divine. I simply rested in it, grateful for a grace-full day of salt and sun and sea—and even for that misty morning interlude which took me just a little deeper into the Mystery.
Did I say that I love going to the ocean?
