Everyday life, Faith, Family

Seam of Sky

Yesterday was our first day on the beach.

I’m not sure if you know this, but it takes approximately a year and a half to prepare 9 people for a beach day.

My mother in law made sandwiches, I was on bathing suit duty, and Todd and Dan made sure the bikes were rigged up and ready to go.

Eventually we all piled in and started the few-miles-long trek to the ocean.

I was the most excited about Charlotte, because she’s old enough to enjoy it this year and I couldn’t wait to see how she responded to the waves and wet sand.

As we rode, we kept an eye on the sky.

It wasn’t looking ideal.

Still, we pressed on.

As we neared the spot where we park our bikes, a light drizzle started. Nobody acknowledged it, I think in an attempt to pretend it was actually a gorgeous day.

We unloaded, started setting up, and I put Charlotte’s arm floaties on her.

“Charlotte, want to go see the water?”

The rain was picking up, but I didn’t care. I had this in my mind and I was going to imagine it was ideal. She started walking, but after feeling the sand in her toes she lifted her arms to me and said, “Momma hold you.”

I picked her up and walked to where the water had dampened the sand. I set her down again and made a smily face so she would see that this is actually a sensation we pay good money for, so go ahead and get your feet dirty.

She stood for a second and then stepped forward, watching behind her as her feet made little imprints.

“Mommy! Mommy!” Abby and Ellie were running toward us, and in a flash they ran past and tucked themselves in the water.

It wasn’t a light drizzle anymore.

In a matter of seconds, it had turned to a cold, angry rain. It was pelting us, willing us to turn back, and yet we walked.

I lifted my rain-speckled sunglasses away from my eyes, turned my head in the opposite direction of the wind, and laughed at Charlotte so she would see that we thought this was funny, not scary. She smiled too and kept walking.

“Momma hold the hand.” I reached down and grabbed her tiny hand as our toes touched the cold water. It lapped up on her and immediately she turned as if she were going to run back, but curiosity got the better of her and she stayed. So we stood, shin-deep in the waves as the storm dripped down from the heavens.

Hair glued to my face, white sundress soaked over my swimsuit, lips salty from covering my mouth in laughter.

And that’s when it happened.

I turned, just for an instant to see if Todd was coming down the beach, and when I did, I noticed the most peculiar thing.

The beach was full of people. Hundreds of them.

And not a single one moved.

Umbrellas raised, conversations full, and children making sand figures.

And all the while, the bitter rain fell.

In fact, it got worse as I watched them. Occasionally a few would turn their heads from the direction it was blowing, but no towels were packed, no babies bundled.

They were unmoved.

How ridiculous.

Or so it seemed.

What would make an entire beach full of people brave a thunderstorm on a damp beach? Were they desperate for sunshine, and willing their minds to see it? Just unfeeling?

From your vantage point in this story, you can’t see what we could see.

The clouds, rolling quickly to the left, and just beyond, a patch of the bluest sky imaginable.

We knew it would pass, and in a matter of minutes.

I couldn’t help but think it did look ridiculous. Well, if you didn’t know what was coming, at least.

But we do.

This is temporary.

The news tells us buildings are swimming in fire and children are left alone to die.

The paycheck is just short of covering what we needed it to.

The goodbye lasted longer than our breath could carry us.

We feel the rain, and it is cold.

We thought it would be a beautiful day, but that isn’t always the way it goes here.

And yet, we remain unmoved.

To a watching world, it must seem crazy. I’m not saying I don’t understand. How could all of these people go on? Why not pack up and call it a day? Assume that we had been forsaken?

And here we are, the bride of Christ, facing the storm with a drenched smile.

Because we know what they might not.

And as they watch on, the best we can do is point to the blue sky, crawling closer every moment. We can tell them it will be worth it. It isn’t over.

Hold your breath if you have to.

Shield your face, if ever so slightly.

But don’t you dare move. It’s exquisite just around the corner. Not just a patch of sky, but hope itself.

They say it’s ridiculous, I’m sure.

But from my vantage point, it’s only a matter of time.

There is a definitive line in the sky, where dark cloud kisses white and weather succumbs to grace.

A seam between the ages.

A promise made, intended to be kept.

And always behind the storm, a voice whispers from eternity: It is worth the wait, love.

And so we remain, eyes soaked with tears and rain.

Believing beyond our momentary affliction that all-consuming glory is near.

It is so near, love.

Come, Lord Jesus...quickly…






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  • Reply from Angie Smith – Seam of Sky » Pam's Place | Pam's Place August 29, 2012 at 11:09 am

    […] Beautifully written – we see hope! […]

  • Reply Krista Wilbur August 29, 2012 at 11:31 am

    Beautiful, Angie. And a very poignant reminder for me as I am making a huge life transition with my job (I quit it) and while I should be so fearful of not having one in these upcoming weeks… I’m not, because I know He is faithful and what He has in store for us is so, so good. Love your passion!

    (Also, when my sister was a baby, she used to say “Mama hold you” or “Sissy hold you” all the time to us. Sweet, sweet Charlotte girl reminded me of that!)

  • Reply Krista Wilbur August 29, 2012 at 11:31 am

    Beautiful, Angie. And a very poignant reminder for me as I am making a huge life transition with my job (I quit it) and while I should be so fearful of not having one in these upcoming weeks… I’m not, because I know He is faithful and what He has in store for us is so, so good. Love your passion!

    (Also, when my sister was a baby, she used to say “Mama hold you” or “Sissy hold you” all the time to us. Sweet, sweet Charlotte girl reminded me of that!)

  • Reply lifewithkaishon August 29, 2012 at 11:49 am

    What a beautiful post. Thank you for this inspiration today! I am so glad my friend Pam shared this on facebook. Lovely.

  • Reply heather hmsd.blogspot.com August 29, 2012 at 11:56 am

    beautifully written, and timely for me. we just celebrated our triplets first birthday, and they are in heaven instead of on earth with us. there are more times in a day than i like to admit that i wish i had left this earth the day they did. i ask Jesus to come quickly many times in a day. i know there is hope. i’ve seen it. in my 2 yr old’s face, in the fact that we are expecting another child again in february, in where God has brought my family from and what He’s promised us. i still ask though, Jesus come quickly. sometimes it’s hard to see past the storm.

  • Reply Mary Margaret August 29, 2012 at 11:56 am

    this was exactly what I needed this morning… still standing firm in the truth today.

  • Reply Erica August 29, 2012 at 12:04 pm

    This is what I needed to see today. I’m sitting here on bed rest praying my baby boy will stay in a few more weeks to grow, and today marks one year since we lost our last little baby boy. Feeling down and discouraged, but this storm will pass!

    • Reply Krista Wilbur August 29, 2012 at 12:25 pm

      Praying for you and your son, Erica! May God provide safe passage to this world for him and may He keep you and provide you with peace that surpasses anything you’ve ever known. <3

    • Reply Cooking Up Faith August 29, 2012 at 10:34 pm

      PRaying with you tonight.

    • Reply Aisha August 30, 2012 at 1:04 am

      Praying for you & your son, Erica!

  • Reply Cynthia August 29, 2012 at 12:18 pm

    Thank you for sharing the ways God reveals Himself to you……even in the things most would overlook. It is evident in posts like these that you make a conscious decision to find Him, to see Him, and to love Him. You inspire me to do the same.

  • Reply rebecca August 29, 2012 at 12:38 pm

    this is beautiful. thank you.

  • Reply Rebecca W. August 29, 2012 at 12:55 pm

    beautiful. thank you.

  • Reply celeste hill August 29, 2012 at 1:06 pm

    You bless my heart and soul with His Truth and He has given you a gift that you continue to cultivate.
    The ability to touch a soul by His strength and truths. I wanted to let you know that last night I watched 19 Kids & Counting. Michele was telling her story of the recent loss of their daughter Jubilee Shalom. They showed her service and Audrey’s song played in the background.
    The ministry that you have shared extends far and wide sweet sister.
    I am so looking forward to W of F in Anaheim, CA this September and being able to hear you speak.
    Blessings to you and your family as you continue to respond to HIS call.

  • Reply Katie August 29, 2012 at 1:40 pm

    Thank you Angie- beautifully written and a timely word for the day.

  • Reply Karen August 29, 2012 at 1:50 pm

    Wow…this analogy is a definite keeper to reread as needed…I could see the boundary line between the dark and the light…the disappointment and the hope…so glad you shared this!

  • Reply Shellie August 29, 2012 at 1:53 pm

    Wow. Powerful stuff!

  • Reply Sarah August 29, 2012 at 1:59 pm

    Love this!

  • Reply Melissa August 29, 2012 at 2:07 pm

    Just when I’m at the point of wanting to give up, I’m directed to your wonderful words that remind me that this is not all that I have in store for me. My dreams are drying up without the water that I desperately long for to make them grow, yet I’m going to try to keep looking for that seam of sky. Thank you so much for being so willing to share your heart with us. I’m always blessed by your words.

  • Reply Abby August 29, 2012 at 2:35 pm

    Thanks for such a hopeful and encouraging post!

  • Reply Looking_Down_Jenn August 29, 2012 at 3:03 pm

    Thanks, Angie. A little boy in our community went home to be with Jesus this morning after a long battle with cancer. I’m sharing this in the hope that it brings come comfort.

  • Reply Rebekah Ruth August 29, 2012 at 5:23 pm

    truly stunning post, Angie! I love this. Thanks for the reminder not to look at how wet I’m getting but to look to the skies and see the blue just beyond the storm clouds.

  • Reply LC August 29, 2012 at 5:29 pm

    Beautiful! And describes my battle with infertility so perfectly! 2 years of rain and now my precious baby girl is in my arms. Thank you for sharing this!

  • Reply Sarah August 29, 2012 at 10:49 pm

    This was a balm to my soul. Sometimes I get so discouraged when I see so much pain in the world. It feel defeating and I don’t know how to cope. Thank you for the renewed hope.

  • Reply Lynda Russell August 29, 2012 at 11:11 pm

    I find myself living in That Hope often. Come, Lord Jesus!

  • Reply Coby August 29, 2012 at 11:29 pm

    Thank you for this beautiful image of hope – just around the corner. This is so encouraging as I wait on the Lord for promises to be fulfilled!

  • Reply Sunday Park August 30, 2012 at 12:41 am

    Thank you so much!! I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear this until the tears started flowing!

  • Reply Aisha August 30, 2012 at 1:02 am

    This explains my life perfectly right now! Struggling with an illness that changed my life drastically has made me question A LOT of things in my life, and so many times I have felt the storm was too strong for me to handle. I don’t understand suffering, I have been praying a lot that The Lord will help me understand it more. I do know though, I am closer to Him than I have ever been and I need to continue to cling to Jesus and trust that He is in control of everything that is happening to me right now! Thank you for another awesome post 🙂

  • Reply Jessica Taylor August 30, 2012 at 1:33 am

    Beautiful!! Your words always bless me when I most need it!!

  • Reply Carmel August 30, 2012 at 5:46 am

    It has been 20 months since we were asked to wait for a week. This time we have been asked to wait for 10 days. To see… Or not to see. And in between, tears and fears rage. Hope and despair do battle. The patch of blue sky seems illusive, though I know, it is there. Thanks for the reminder.

  • Reply Vivi August 30, 2012 at 9:14 am

    A lovely post, Angie. Only a month ago my friend was at the beach surrounded by children & grandkids. Today she lies in a hospital bed, able to mutter little more than gibberish, her brain ravaged by an aggressive tumor. It all happened so quickly, & this trauma seems so unfair, so absurd. I intend to share this post with her family.

  • Reply Sheila A Harris August 30, 2012 at 9:21 am

    Such encouragement. It’s all worth it, and it’s all true. Lord, we thank you. You are our hope in this storm. I was just listening to Casting Crowns “I’ll Praise You In this Storm’ on my way to work and I thought, I will praise you Lord, even if my tears continue to fall, even if all seems upside down, You Lord are the one I believe in. Thank you for putting it into words so well. In God’s Love, sheila

  • Reply Jen August 30, 2012 at 10:43 am

    You know. {hugs}

  • Reply Eunice August 30, 2012 at 1:19 pm

    I’m forwarding this to a friend who, a month ago, lost her little 7wk old son…Ezra Blaise. I’ve often thought of writing to ask for prayer for her but just haven’t. They have an amazing testimony and love for the Lord through their heartache. This is a small youtube clip of them speaking at his funeral!
    Thanks for writing this! Eunice

  • Reply Tabitha Addison August 30, 2012 at 2:05 pm

    That is beautiful. Your inspiring words remind us that no matter how bad the storm or how hard it is to make it through each moment, if we just trust in the Lord and wait, this too shall pass; the beauty and the blessings that await us is so much more than we can imagine. If we only BELIEVE!!

  • Reply Lis August 30, 2012 at 5:23 pm

    So, SO beautiful.

  • Reply Angie August 30, 2012 at 7:30 pm

    Thank you for writing this…praise God for his incredible hope in his Son.

  • Reply Erin August 30, 2012 at 9:51 pm

    Such beautiful words…”Hold you Momma.” My 2 year old boy says them to me at least 10 times a day. Love them.

  • Reply Sabrina September 1, 2012 at 12:46 am

    This is the first time I’ve been courageous enough to post since discovering your book and your blog after my miscarriage almost a year ago. As the anniversary of that fateful day approaches, and I am overwhelmed with grief once again, your words here are a balm to my soul. Thank you.

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    Always beautiful. Always inspiring.


  • Reply Kristen September 2, 2012 at 10:20 pm

    Breathtaking, Angie. Thank you for this…

  • Reply Kelli September 3, 2012 at 8:29 am

    Beautiful words, Angie. Thank you.

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  • Reply Erica September 22, 2012 at 1:41 am

    Needed to hear this today. This week has been a heavy one as we’re grieving the loss of our son.

  • Reply Anita September 25, 2012 at 9:23 pm

    Wow! What an incredible analogy. Thank you for writing this – and writing it brilliantly, I might add!

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