When I was a part of San Diego Vineyard, a lot of healing took place in me. There was a special provision on worship and it was an unstoppable onramp into the love of God and his heart for me. He always met me there. Mark McCoy was the worship pastor there, and he led us as Jesus led him, extravagantly and without reserve. There was no plan B. Either God showed up or there was no use in doing what we did. God came. Every time. When he died, circumstances had arisen that made it impossible for me emotionally to stay within the community, so I heard about it in an email. The next time I was in the mountains walking I felt a mantle come. It was an Indian headdress, four gems and a feather. I did not know what to do with it, as was much of my experience in the Lord in those days. Haha, I am not much farther today. When I left San Diego, 7 months later, I went to the ocean with a particular mission in my heart. I brought a sand dollar I had gotten in the midst of a spiritual experience years before. I laid it on the sand before him. I was trying to be noble. Please God, forgive me for those things I have not been able to use here. Please allow them to go to whomever can use them the best for your glory. I know I have not stepped out in some of these things and I am sorry. And I was. I had gone to a church planting school there. never planted a church. learned how to play the guitar there, never led a team in worship. I knew that day on the beach he was okay with me. He didn’t really seem to care about the things I laid down.

Years passed. It was time to come and visit. It was time to see my mom again. The Lord made the way. I set up times to visit with various people while there. I remember the Lord, asking, when was his time. I said he could have anytime he wanted. He picked a Friday morning at the beach. I remember when it came. I didn’t know what he would say. The last time he and I had met at this place so intentionally was when I had had laid the sandollar down.

I parked my car. It was cold and looked like it would rain. I chose the place where I had known good and bad a little girl. I decided on a plan. I would walk from one pier to the next pier up the coast. I had a hope, unthought but there, that he would address the sandollar, since he never had. Perhaps he would explain and it would all make sense. The pain of that time, my brokenness and the way the relationships had failed during that season. But- his agenda. He gets to do what he wants, is always best.

With my umbrella I began my trek. Silence. I walked. Close to the water I enjoyed the sounds of the waves, waiting to hear the voice of my Lord. Silence. I walked. 45 minutes passed. What had seemed quite close to my eyes stayed the same distance away, and I realized two things. I had seriously underestimated the distance I had set to walk. I had also overestimated my physical ability to do so. It crashed in on me as failure. I had failed. It was my own fault and I would miss God. I cried. The wind whipped. The waves crashed. My tears fell. All of the sorrow. from all of the times, that I had not been able to…and the pain of those punished times that taught me intolerance, overwhelmed me. The crazy taught places where I could not change what I needed to change and the awful irreconcilable results volcanoed up. Distress. I screwed up. And I could not change it. Regret as deep as any canyon surfaced with no processing pathway. The tears would never stop, I was sure. I failed.And I was sure he would not come. And I was sure it was my fault.

I stood, uncertain. Go back? Continue? Did it matter?

He spoke. With a chuckle. Almost like it was no big deal to him, but not in a way that dismissed my pain. You are going to fail, Tanya. It is a part of the journey. You will make mistakes and it will feel like you have failed.

He didn’t seem shocked or dismayed. I was still convinced that I had lost something irretrievable, but was thankful for his mercy nonetheless. I looked at the distance I had yet to go. I soaked in the idea that he could get past it. I realized him seeing me where I was was far different than what I had been able to see. It required some acknowledging. Well then, if I am going to fail, let it always be when my heart is aiming for you and headed in your direction. Perhaps that was what the meeting time was ti be about after all.

He loved me. I could feel it then, just like I can now. His love is warm and it makes me remember hope. And, I looked down.
I am not sure if they were there before. There were two. Sandollars. One adult and one baby. I couldn’t move for a minute. The awe overcame me. My God. Who he is and what he does. Reverence and amazement and joy rolled into one toogoodtobetrue moment. I picked them up. And strength flowed back into me. Not only did I complete the walk, but on the way back to my car the clouds parted and a rainbow appeared, one of seven I saw during four days.

I still have one sandollar from that day. The other I gave away, to one younger in the faith who has great promises.
The truth that I can fail, and it is okay, and I won’t be severely punished and he will remain in affection, brought transformation that has lasted.
Surely our God makes everything beautiful in its time.
He is love, and it is what love does. Selah.