Crave a Beach House?

In my twenties, I read stories about families with summer beach houses, some true, some fiction. Names like Vanderbilt, Kennedy, and mysterious authors danced through my thoughts. Fantasy took over and I imagined travelling to the east coast, unpacking the car, and ripping the dust covered sheets off the furniture. Windows were opened, shutters smacked against the Cape Cod siding, and sounds of the sea drifted into the house along with the salty air.

            Those early thoughts about beach homes took root in my soul. When I imagine myself anywhere other than where I currently live, it always involves a beach house with a covered porch overlooking the ocean. Alas this daydream has never taken shape in my life. A home in the suburbs is more than sufficient to satisfy my pocketbook.

            Why do I crave this experience? Is it because of my landlocked Ohio roots? Is it because of a romantic notion of family around a beach campfire while waves lap nearby? Or is it because it represents a sabbatical, a time of rest where the pace slows?

            Is it possible to taste your dreams even if you can’t have the whole entrée?

            Last weekend my bucket filled because of a quick trip to the gulf where we savored a few days with some of our grown kids and grandkids.

A beach house—not owned but rented.

A beach house—not with a covered porch but with two decks.

 A beach house—not on the gulf but close enough to hear the waves, taste the salt, and feel the breeze.

A beach house—with family present.

***

            “Nona, what are you doing?” My granddaughter’s small voice questions as she slides onto the bench across the table from me—still rubbing her eyes because of the early morning sun.

            “Reading my Bible.”  I smile as the breeze sweeps her golden hair across her cheek.

            “What’s all of that writing?” She points to my handwriting on the page beside verses.

            “Those are prayers that I pray for you, your brother and your cousins. My Bible is filled with prayers I’ve prayed for you.”

            “Hmm. Do you want to color with me?”

            And that was it. A sentence which hopefully lodged in her preschool mind and causes her to remember a Nona who prays for her.

A moment in time. That same sentence is the fruit of a slower pace, beside the sea, with family.

This is why I crave a beach house.

What about you? What image elicits peace or rest? The mountains? Your cozy home? A tropical island? How do you write on the hearts of your children and grandchildren? I would love to read your comments.

            Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength. These words that I am giving you today are to be in your heart. Repeat them to your children. Talk about them when you sit in your house and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. (Deuteronomy 6:5-7 CSB).