Life Lessons from the Sea #13: The Music of Memory

Conch shell photo from flickr by queenie13

In my home I have two giant conch shells. One, my Omama and Opapa gave me many years ago. The other I brought home from the Bahamas. I’d found it on the ocean floor, an empty shell, devoid of any inhabitant. I polished it up to a creamy pink. Now it lives alongside my other ocean treasures.

Sometimes my children and I listen to it. We hold it to our ears and wait for the echoes of crashing waves, pounding surf. It’s one of my favorite things to do, not because of the sounds we hear, but because of the wonder that fills my kids eyes when they hear it. Then, we reminisce of our trips to the sea. Building sand castles. Swimming in the salty water. Riding the waves. This is what I love the shells for. The memories they dredge up, cementing them in our minds.

Last night I went to a Journey concert (hence the late post…sorry!). As the music washed over me, it swept me back to my youth. To times when I danced arm in arm with friends. To when my sister and I sang at the top of our lungs as we drove down the highway. Slow dances with boys. The thrill of taping my favorite song when in finally came on the radio.

The amphitheatre was crammed full of fans, mostly forty-somethings, screaming and singing, waving our arms, reliving the highlights of our youth. Lost in emotion. I loved it. We all did.

What smells or sounds bring back potent memories for you? What do you do to treasure them?

Life Lessons from the Sea #12: Loss, while painful, can still bring joy

My daughter is getting married in less than three months, which pretty much has me freaking out, running around in circles, and using all my creative juices figuring out how to stretch my dollars into lovely wedding décor. 

Oh, for spare time in which to write to my heart’s content. Oh, the dreams I have of lounging by the sea and soaking in the sun until I’m overflowing with inspiration.Okay, I’ll admit, I did that last month, and it was wonderful. A week of sea and salt and sand and a million gazillion kids (which translates into not much time for writing). 

Fortunately, one of the wonders of the sea is that it stays with you. It lingers in the mind, fresh and exhilarating. Sharp and tangy as a lime, flowing and roaring like a living thing.  I still hear the cry of pelicans, see them plummet into crystal water then gulp down their quivering meal. I hear the call of strangers, searching for their lost daughter, their voices anxious as the sun sets, then panicked as darkness closes in.

“Alejandra! Alejandra!”

It’s a frightening thing, to lose a child. Especially so close to the sea. In time, they found her, wandering along the dusky shore. They gathered her in hugs and kisses and cries of relief.

In a way, I, too, am also losing a child—losing her to her own life, her newfound independence. This is a good thing, it is true. But a loss, nonetheless. Of course, I’m gaining a son-in-law. And he’s delightful, too. But the fact remains, Amanda will no longer be my own. 

Am I like a sea star, losing a limb? Will it grow back in time, slightly different? Will I find that Amanda and Devon are still part of me? Will I, like Alejandra’s parents, rejoice to find my daughter, with her companion, forging her own path in life? I think so. 

When sea stars lose an arm, the lost piece grows to become a whole new star, a whole new creature, just from that tiny part. Perhaps someday, my loved ones will be a cluster of sea stars, separate but still family, inching our way through the storms and beauties of the sea.

Life Lessons from the Sea #11: Ten Tips for Surviving Family Vacations

The ocean is a great place to build unity and trust. Even vacationers, swimming in the surf, keep an eye out for those around them. On a recent trip to Mexico with several families, we watched each other’s kids in the sea and along shorelines, always aware of the risks involved in water play.

Early in the morning, when the ocean receded, my youngest daughter and I explored tide pools. We shared our treasures—hermit crabs and a sea star, with perfect strangers who, likewise, showed us their finds. Later, my nephews and sons caught larger crabs. It took the greater part of the afternoon, but together, they finally triumphed. Then the cousins dug huge holes together and built sand castles that would inspire any budding architect.

In the spirit of togetherness, my eldest daughter gathered and borrowed shells to create a love note for her sweetheart back home. Our families shared goggles, a paddleboard, food, sunscreen and more. We enjoyed the wild freedom of the ocean while alert for the dangers that lurk beneath its surface, ready to act should the need arise.

It’s easy to make this idyllic setting sound like a dream, full of smiles, pleasant surprises, and only the happiest feelings. But, like in the ocean, dangers lurk in even the most delightful family vacations, rearing up to spoil the fun. A little friction here, a cross voice there, a touch of impatience. Not by coincidence, then, did all of our group family lessons focus on controlling anger and getting along.

One of my favorite of the suggestions given, was to agree with your adversary, then add your gentle comments afterward. I tried this out on my kids (they're never adversarial, are they?) when they complained about our watermelon having seeds.

“I know, honey, I like seedless watermelons better, too. But we’re in Mexico, and the store here doesn’t have them. Plus, now you have seeds to spit at your brothers.” 

To my delight, I found that this approach worked much better than snapping at my darlings about trying to have a better attitude! So here’s a few more tips about managing the trouble that comes from close contact with your loved ones, especially on family vacation.

1.      Count to ten before responding to people’s outrageously rude comments. They probably didn’t really mean it. All right, maybe they did, but don’t let them ruin your vacation!

2.      Make a concerted effort to be cheerful. You’ve been looking forward to this chance to torture, I mean, enjoy each other for a long time.

3.      Shake off little irritations that will probably be forgotten in a few minutes anyway.

4.      Keep snacks handy to avoid those nasty little dips in blood sugar that tend to bring out the grumpies in everybody.

5.      Try not to lose it when security lets you know your hellions are loading trash bins into the elevator and spitting off balconies at unsuspecting strangers. (How not to lose it? Laugh. It’s the only option. But wait until after the security guards leave.)

6.      Plan portable activities to keep the crew occupied in down time, so they aren’t at each other’s throats: card games, small puzzles, coloring books, reading books…ipad

7.      Spend a few minutes every day with the whole family, sharing in positive ways, whether through storytelling, worship time, or just sharing favorite experiences from the day. It sets an upbeat tone that carries over  into the rest of the trip.

8.      Squeeze in a little time by yourself, to unwind—a quiet jog, swim in the surf, hide out on the balcony, put in your earphones during a long drive.

9.      Feed the kids well, then wear them out with fun activities, like swimming and hiking, so they’ll sleep well at night (maybe even early—peace for the grown-ups!)

10.  If all else fails, spit watermelon seeds at them. (Just don’t tell security.)

How do you fend off fights that crop up during family time?

Life Lessons from the Sea #10: Man-o-war stings and home remedies

Man-o-war we caught 

 

 

 

I love to go snorkeling. Sure, I swallow a bit of saltwater now and then. And the tossing sea sometimes make me feel like I’m gonna toss my breakfast. But it’s worth it. When I strap on my mask and dip my head underwater, I feel like I’m entering a new world. A peaceful silence drifts over me. Purple sea fans sway beneath my body. I watch blue and gold butterfly fish school by in swirling clouds.

But among the splendor, danger also lurks, sometimes within the most lovely of creatures. Sea urchins, with their spectacular spines, are an obvious risk. One touch, and you’ll feel like you’ve tangled with a wasp. Sea anemones inject passing fish with a paralyzing neurotoxin—then eat them. Jellyfish deliver poison-filled darts with venom ranging from irritating to deadly.

My son (who refuses to be named due to extenuating—and disgusting—circumstances) suffered a man-o-war sting this week while we vacationed in Mexico. The ethereal deep blue creature stung his hand while he swam. Not exactly the highlight of his trip.

Coincidentally, I’d read up on jellyfish stings last week. Vinegar or meat tenderizer breaks down the protein-based venom. But all we had at the beach were more, ah, natural remedies. You know, the kind you usually find near a urinal. My son was in enough pain that he finally accepted his uncle’s generous offering, knowing full well that he’d be teased for the rest of his life. His pain disappeared almost immediately.

Back at the hotel, I researched man-o-war venom. Turns out the pain fades after about an hour. So my son’s brush with poor hygiene might not have been exactly necessary. I also learned that man-o-wars are not jellyfish. They’re siphonophores, a whole colony of specialized individuals. In contrast to jellyfish, their venom actually intensifies with vinegar use. So, really, my son should be grateful we didn’t have any.

What situations have you experienced that seemed safe or beautiful, but ended up otherwise? What home remedies work for you? What have yielded strange or unexpected results?

Life Lessons from the Sea #9: Hold fast

The sea teems with life, movement and change. What better place to celebrate the fourth of July?

This year we joined some friends on their new boat to watch fireworks from a barge. We arrived several hours early. The kids whiled away the time jumping off the deck again and again.

Our friends informed us that they’d recently lost their anchor. They’d extended it in deep waters until, plunk, the anchor sank to the bottom with the rope end trailing behind. The previous owners had untied it for some reason that none of us could fathom.

So we drifted. It wasn’t a problem, really. If we floated too close to shore, the barge, or other boats, we simply motored back. As dusk fell, patriotic music sounded across the water. Lights exploded in the sky, followed closely by shuddering booms. Streamers blazed overhead, dripping flames as they slowly descended, held aloft by mini parachutes.

Our kids ran back and forth along the deck to find the best vantage point as our boat shifted in the gentle waves. The booms grew louder, the fireworks bigger until we looked around and saw that we were far beyond the ring of other boats watching the display. We’d drifted into the no-man zone without even realizing it.

Our friend started the engines while a police boat zoomed toward us, emergency lights flashing. But one of our engines was dead. We explained to the police who warned us away. So we motored backward in a sort of circle, our progress painfully slow.

Meanwhile, flames rained down from the sky, much nearer than was exactly comfortable. What had started as a thrilling display was now a source of fear, anxiety, and danger. We powered down the lights on the boat, restarted the generator, and finally managed to get the last engine going. Our friend piloted us to a safe distance where we enjoyed the rest of the show.

But it got me thinking. When we lose our anchors, we drift wherever the sea takes us. There’s no purpose, no direction, nothing to cling to amid turbulent times or in a chaotic world.

Today I celebrate the values this country was founded on, the anchors that keep us safe and strong, unless we lose them: faith in God, hard work, compassion, opportunity, liberty.

What anchors you?