You could say that, growing up, the ocean was my swimming pool and the coastline was my playground. My family lived close enough to the coast of Southern California that we were there often. Some of my best memories include times when we'd unfurl an old blanket, scooping some sand on each corner to hold it down from the wind, and plop down for a picnic lunch or dinner. Usually the sandwiches really were SAND-wiches. I learned to chew gently so I wouldn't hear the crunch from the small granules that always hitchhiked into my mouth with each bite.
I loved burying my feet under the sand to feel the warmth from the day's sunshine. It was like putting on a set of cozy socks. Dad taught us how to "catch" sand crabs. My younger sister and brother and I would stand at the water's edge, wait for a wave to break and push water up over our feet, which was the signal to madly begin digging our hands deep into the sand. Like a claw machine, we quickly brought up our scoop of wet sand and let it slide off through our fingers, hoping to find a wriggling sand crab desperately digging downwards to hide.
One day I remember watching Dad hunched over Mom's old Singer sewing machine (which was a heavy, metal treadle sewing machine that was converted to run on electricity), feeding it a huge sheet of material and sewing it into a rectangle. He said we would use it in the ocean. That did not make sense to me--and I think Dad wanted to keep the suspense going, so he didn't really explain further. But we did use it. Dad had us get into the ocean up to our waist. He shook out the sewn-up rectangle, soaked it in the ocean and then, just like an airport windsock, let it fill with air. He quickly bunched up the end and tied it off with a strip of material. Now it looked like he was holding a huge pillow! We jumped on and held onto it as best we could while the waves gave us a ride. It would wriggle, buck and bounce us until it was deflated. We played on it until we were exhausted.
My first swimming lesson was given by my father. It was just like you've heard so many people explain: he picked me up and threw me in the ocean. It was sink or swim--and after i went underneath the water, I flailed and kicked until I was righted and was able to breathe in air instead of salt water. I was so angry. I did not understand why Dad was so calm about what just happened. It took me a few minutes to calm down. He explained that he learned to swim this way and that it was the best way to learn. I had thought that my dad knew everything. But this shook my core belief.
As I grew older, Dad let me swim out farther with him. I felt very brave in the ocean, having wave after wave push by me. But one day Dad wanted to teach me how to dive under the waves. He said that there would come a time when I would find that a very large wave would line up in front of me and I wouldn't have time to swim away from it and I would not be able to stand up to it. So I should dive under the wave. Wait--what?! Dive under? Oh no, Dad. You are quite wrong. That is not safe. But Dad explained that if I dove down under the wave, it won't be able to spin me around and up-side-down in the dark of the water, where I wouldn't be able to see anything. I will feel some of the power of the wave, but it will not crush me under its powerful washing machine-like force.
So I decided to take him at his word and tried the next big wave. Seeing it move ever closer, I could size it up quickly. It was well over my head--by several feet. I searched for Dad. He was close by. As the wave began to crest, Dad said 'dive!'. And I did. I tried to picture myself as a bullet shooting through the water. Being underneath the wave I could feel the forward motion but I wasn't churning around and round. I shot for the top of the water. As soon as I broke the surface of the water I was looking for the wave. It was already several yards away from me, getting weaker and smaller as it headed for shore.
I was relieved and overjoyed. Dad taught me something that has served as a life lesson for me. Whenever I am faced with something that appears overwhelming, I remind myself to dive. Dive down and through because on the other side is calm and peace. I don't need to be afraid of the power of the waves - because my heavenly Father taught me how to overcome them. Dive through them. Find the point of weakness that incapacitates the force and power of the wave. I may feel the waves of life go by, but I won't drown or be knocked unconscious. So go through it. Go through and be done with it. I don't let it rob me of peace and joy through intimidation. Even the gnarly waves are subject to Him (Mark 4:41). Cowabunga, dude!