My family and I have not had a real family vacation in years. Usually, we travel back to Wisconsin for the Christmas holidays, but I don’t consider that a real vacation, though we do have a wonderful time.
This summer, just a few weeks ago, actually, we went to North Carolina and stayed on the Outer Banks for a week. Last summer, Kim went online after we decided that we needed to do something differently after the terrible summer and year we just had. She came up with a house to rent right across the street from the ocean. The house also had a pool and hot tub and was only short distances away from restaurants and shopping. We invited Kim’s parents, her sister and her family, her brother and his family along with his girlfriend and her two kids, and Hannah’s boyfriend.
It was one of the most relaxing and enjoyable vacations I’ve had in a really long time and to be honest, I’d like to go back again and again. Heck, I’d leave tomorrow if I could.
One morning, Emily and I walked the beach. Both of us barefoot, toes in the wet sand. What a way to begin a morning!
One thing I miss is sitting out on the upper deck and listening to the waves. Every now and then we’d spot dolphins, and while I enjoyed watching them dance in the ocean, I was more attracted to the waves.
I’d listen to and watch them crash and pound the shore. Sometimes there were whitecaps and the sea roiled, rose and fell in a heap on the sand. Other times, the ocean was calmer, but never really calm, because the waves still hit the shore, only a bit more gently. At times, the sound of the waves hitting the shoreline was so loud that even though we were across the street, it sounded like they were in our own backyard. Other times, the sound was softer, still there, but softer.
No matter, wave after wave, hour after hour, minute after minute, waves hit the shore. Persistent. Relentless. No amount of want or need or design could or would prevent waves from landing on shore, dragging sand into the ocean only to spew it back as the next wave fell.
I think love is just as persistent, just as Relentless.
I look at young mothers holding a baby and I see a persistent, Relentless love. I watch young teachers staying up late, putting in extra time, spending their own money even though they get paid a pittance, leaning over a student who just doesn’t get it, and I’d call that love. I’ve known parents staying up late to make sure their sons or daughters get home safely. Definitely love.
And even though the baby might grow up to hurt, and even though the student might not learn it as fast or as quickly as others, and even though that son or daughter might make a poor choice or decision that causes heartbreak, in each case, their love is persistent, Relentless.
Love doesn’t give up. Love might make you frustrated, angry and sad. Love might cause you to weep or cry or fly into a rage. Love might move us to silence and peace and utter joy.
But like the waves crashing onto shore or gently lapping at the sand, love is at the core and the root, the driving force in each of us, and in each other. Persistent . . . Relentless . . . Love. Something to think about . . .
Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!
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Taking Lives, prequel to The Lives Trilogy
Stolen Lives, Book One of The Lives Trilogy
Shattered Lives, Book Two of The Lives Trilogy
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