Annesley Writers Forum "Stories of Change: Singing Beach" by Jenn Petersen for Monday, 14 July 2014

Annesley Writers Forum "Stories of Change: Singing
Beach" by Jenn Petersen for Monday, 14 July 2014
My lips were salty. I don’t know how long I had been sitting there on that jagged rock. Thirty minutes? An hour? All morning? The only sounds were the rhythmic cymbal crashes of waves on the shore and the occasional cadenzas of seagulls.
And the voice of God.
It was the summer I graduated from college. I had a diploma in one hand and an overflowing bucket of dreams in the other. I had just completed four years of incredible study and training, a season of intense auditioning and competitions, and now here I was, about to launch into the next season of life. Perhaps The Julliard School? Or the Chicago Lyric Opera? Or the Met? I had so many voices speaking loudly into my life; I highly respected each of them. But there was only one Voice I was waiting to hear, and it came at just the right time.
I had flown out to Boston to visit my sister for yet another audition, and we decided to take a little day trip to a quaint New England town called Manchester By the Sea. (How much more quaint and New England-y can you get than a name like “Manchester By the Sea?”) As soon as my feet hit the sand of Singing Beach (aptly named for its squeaking sound as you walk on it), I knew this wouldn’t be any ordinary day.
We walked for awhile, pointing out the obvious natural beauty of the seascape, scooping up handfuls of the musical sand, and plucking out dainty seashells. Soon, though, our conversation stopped, and we each chose a ten-foot rock to climb. I gazed out at the unending ocean. It loomed big and overwhelming, just like my future. What did God want me to do with my life? Which direction should I go? How could I decide what steps to take next? I was young, with so many questions, not put-together or neatly organized, and I didn’t feel at all capable of making such huge decisions about my future.
That’s when I looked down at the rock below me. It was cracked, imperfect. It wasn’t pretty or smooth. But those deep cracks, those imperfections—that’s where the water was getting in. Over time, that water would smooth out the rough edges and wash out the grime. I longed for that water to wash over me, running through my cracks and my brokenness, smoothing out my rough edges and making me clean. I knew right then all I needed to do was cry out to the Source of this water.
Perched atop of my rock, I cried, “God, what do you want me to do with my life?”
And right then, I heard it. “Follow me. I’ll give you the songs.”
Follow. That’s it. That’s all it took in that moment, and that’s all it takes today.
I will gladly follow this Voice, this Water, to the ends of the oceans. I will follow Him as He smooths out my edges and washes away the dirt and muck. And I will always smile fondly when I see a jagged rock, cracked and rough, because I know the miracle that can happen when we let that water run freely through us. Lead me, Lord. I will follow.
“Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect.” Romans 12:2
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