Stories by the Beach

     I'm sitting in the dark in a condo on Panama City Beach.  I was determined to get going this morning so Madalynn could swim in some shade, but a migraine ensued while I was talking with a lady at the pool.   

     It's a perfectly gorgeous day over the turquoise and green striped water and the white sand.  Everyone but me has enjoyed it.  And that's okay; I'm thankful there is medicine and that I don't suffer from migraines all the time or for days, like some people I know.  The Weather Channel is on.  We are especially interested because Mike could've easily been called away to drive his relief truck.  For now, it's been worked out and he'll get there soon enough.  Some of the kids are planning to follow him to Oklahoma.  How devastating for that community.  It's so crazy because just last eve as I was taking pictures of Macklynn and Madalynn on the beach, I couldn't get over how small the ocean makes me feel, how the design of the sun and the horizon proves God is the grand mathematician, how the life beneath it proves He is the ultimate biologist, and how the intoxicating beauty proves He is the master artist.  

     Madalynn and I were supposed to have a picnic and fly kites on the beach late this afternoon; instead, Mike has the 2 little ones out fishing.  I tried peeking through the curtains and the light made pain surge through my head again.  It's awfully nice to be here alone and comfortable in this white flannel gown of mine, yes, the same one I had on driving Mike's big yellow truck into the truck stop as he kept it going with ether until we could fuel! 

     Miranda is "conveniently" driving the older ones down "the strip" to get ingredients to broil the shark Mike, Michael Jr, and Macklynn caught last night off the pier.  Mike and I spent time in 1988 doing just that, cruising in Barry Somebody's Corvette.  This beach goes back way further than that for Mike though.  He's been coming here before he can remember.  His grandparents owned a couple of places in Venture Out across the road.  He has all kinds of memories.  Our last trip here in 2006 was our last "real" vacation.  We also brought Megan here when she was just a little thing.  That was the trip I rode back with Mike's MawMaw.

     There was another lady at the pool this morning, the one we were with in the hot tub last night.  She sat with her granddaughter 2 chairs down and said to her, "The last picture I have of your grandfather was on those steps over there.  I can't believe he's just never, ever coming back."  The 9 or so year old said something and then her grandmother took her hand and said, "We have to talk about him so we don't forget him," and then she cried outloud.  Man, I can't even write this without crying again.  There I was reading my book about learning to love and she had lost the love of her life.

     I brought a veritable library of Godly writing.  I set it up so the kids would have access to whatever they need right now, heavy or light.  Megan snatched up "Stepping Heavenward," which is the book I looked for so long for McKala, that Megan had all along on her bookshelf in Georgia.  As we returned last night with some groceries, the lady staying below us asked, "Was your daughter reading 'Stepping Heavenward' next to us this afternoon.  I said, "Wow, yes, that's an old book; never heard anyone else talk about it!"  Turns out she has it and loves it, and so does their 22 year old daughter. 

     I had already wanted to talk with her but didn't have anything to start up a conversation with until then.  This morning before my migraine took hold, I was able to ask her about her sickness.  You see, she completely bald.  She's been fighting breast cancer since last year.  Good news is that prayer and chemo have made her clear; rough news it that radiation awaits her after her celebration vacation.  Sweet news is it that one of our girls overheard her husband tell her how beautiful she is the day before. 

     There has been story after story we've encountered here, making it way more than a getaway.  Macklynn's highlight was meeting and getting his picture taken at a gas station with an Extreme Bass Pro Fisherman.  Madalynn has made friend after friend.  The pretend play with her figurines has made her a great communicator.  As the big kids were a big hit "hammocking under the pier", having picture after picture taken of them and the beach patrol stopping to say he'd never seen it in all his time; Mike was moved hearing the handicapped man in his intertube saying "Mama" this and "Mama" that.  She took such tender care of him. 

     As we awaited the waves breaking and floating them out, I noticed the sophisticated woman in a black large rimmed hat consoling her teenage son.  He'd broken down in tears as he sat on the cooler.  She was holding his arm and whispering in his ear.  It made me wonder if they'd lost someone, too.  Then beside me, as family of six were playing, the little boy said to his mother, "Thank you for bringing me here."  She didn't hear him, so he repeated it.  He really wanted her to know. 

     It's so easy to be disenfranchised looking at all the bad, especially in this place deemed the "Redneck Riviera" and "the strip" up the road, but if you look for good, you WILL find it.  For this woman who's trying to love again ...and who knows? maybe never really did, not the way God desires; pieces of her are breaking off left and right.  She's down to a big ole pile of mush right now as she types in the haze of the remaining Benadryl I took.  All she knows is that God is moving ...and that's all she needs to know.