The Rescue Zone

The ocean as a rescue zone?  Herein lies a blowfish's tale...

Walking along the beach, my son and future son-in-law found a puffer fish washed up on shore.  In danger of drying out, and dying, they scurried around to save it, located a bucket and a plastic bag, and put the blowfish in the bag filled with water.  Together, an Army soldier and a Marine set about reviving "Puffer" so he could be reintroduced to the ocean. 

Relaxed, activated into motion and with smiles on their faces, my two Alpha heroes carried their trophy proudly toward us, bringing all of us off of our beach towels and toward the water's edge.  Valiantly acting as if they had just returned home from a coveted quest, both eagerly showed off their wounded warrior/fish. 

Never underestimate an Alpha.  (Gotta love 'em!)  But I digress... 

After many dowsings with sea water, Puffer's gills began working well again to the delight of all.  Side by side, my proud smiling boys set their captive free, making sure he swam into the waves and didn't get beached again.

I've felt like a beached whale, with no hope of ever getting back into the ocean.  But I've learned when problems take you through a war zone, remember that there are always heroes about, ready to dig in, hoist you up, carry you to safety, and fight for your life.

Remember, once beached, not always beached.  You can and will swim again.

Life is an ocean, expanse, sometimes dark and cold, drowning you with doubt and the threat of sharks, but there are all kinds of fish out there, especially the blowfish, whose talent at inflating like a balloon can buoy you back to the surface.

In North Carolina, beaches are strown with various rocks and shells, glistening on the expansive shoreline.  So many in fact, it's amazing to think that each one is visibly prized, like you and me.  But stones are more valuable when they've been polished by grinding sand and shells are more beautiful when they have been bleached clean by the sun.

There's nothing like an ocean breeze to calm the inner beastie.  The feeling of insignificance I sometimes feel when gazing out at the sea is often negated by the knowledge that I have purpose, that I too am a polished stone and a shell bleached clean by the sun.

Have you ever felt beached?  Where there soldiers to lead you back to water?