Like The First Time....Again

Twice last week, I was given the opportunity to see the ocean for the first time....again. I do not remember when I actually saw the beach the first time. I know that I was 4 or 5 years old because I have seen the grainy black and white pictures from that trip. It is fairly obvious from the pictures of me on an inner tube, floating in the ocean, bawling my eyes out, that I was scared to death of the water. I also remember my older brothers telling me that at night the barracudas came up on the beach and would eat any people they found. Is it any wonder that I have tried to put most of my memories of that trip out of my mind? The next time I had the opportunity to see the ocean was when I was a junior in high school, and was invited on a family vacation with my friend Becky, her parents, and sisters. They were a second family to me, and I remember how excited they were for me to see the beach. Certainly, no one could have imagined that I would love it like I do. I do have memories of that first time again, as Mr. Leech drove down the beach in the car, and I thought that was about the most amazing thing I had ever seen. Much to Mr. Lincoln's dismay, I remembered that little cruise, for when he and I arrived in Daytona on our honeymoon after driving all day from Chattanooga in July in an un-airconditioned car, I begged him to drive down the beach before checking into our hotel/motel. He was not pleased, but he relented. It was a couple days later that we got the car stuck in the sand. He has never been a lover of sand, and when I gunned the motor spraying both Mr. Lincoln and the nice man who offered to help us, his enjoyment of the gritty substance did not improve. Many times since then I have been to the ocean. I am certain that I saw it for the first time again when my children first visited the beach, but I do not remember. Probably, I was too busy making sure they had on sunscreen, did not go out too far, and all the other things about which a mother worries. So, last week I saw its wonders twice for the first time again. First was when Simeon arrived. We walked down to the beach, and he was watching everything and everybody. He was not thrilled with the water beating against his legs, and clung to his Fizzler (Mr. Lincoln) for dear life. While he never grew to love being in the ocean, he did learn to love the beach. He was my little sidekick several mornings as we walked down the beach to watch the sunrise. A couple days, we watched the sunrise and the sunset together. Each one was like the first time again for me. Then, Max arrived. We eagerly traipsed down to the seashore to see how he would like it. He met it with his usual enthusiasm, mouth wide open, stomping his little feet in the surf. He was pretty mesmerized by the foam and gentle crashing of the waves. Ah, the first time again. How lucky am I? It is not often that we get to have a life experience for the first time again and again. I live in gratitude for those opportunities. So, as I listen through the window to the wind blowing through the palm trees and the ocean in its relentless return to the shore, I wish you wonderful first times again, and I wish you Blessings