Lessons from the lowcountry

When I was much younger, I read somewhere that if you have three really close friends by the time you get old, you are lucky.

While I don’t believe in luck and would prefer not to think of myself as old yet, I do count myself blessed to have more than three precious women friends (not including my daughters, who are also dear friends). One friend I call when I need someone to pray. She is a prayer warrior of the highest degree. Another I call when I need a kick in the behind. She doesn’t hesitate to tell me like it is.

Then there’s T. She has been my friend for 33 years. We’ve been through a lot together, and at times it seems our lives have paralleled uncannily. We had babies together: she had a girl, three boys, then a girl. I had a boy, three girls, then a boy. We both had a miscarriage between the fourth and fifth children. We homeschooled together. We were broke together and once spent an entire day at a gigantic thrift store in Memphis and came home with entire wardrobes for way less than $100 while my husband watched all (then) nine children. We arrived back at my house that Wednesday afternoon with an hour and a half until church time to find Ben and the kids in the back yard sliding through a huge mud pit, having the time of their lives. T bathed all the children while I made supper, we fed everyone, and we still got to church on time. That’s a friend.

Years later when we lived many states apart, we talked on the phone once and found that both of our stoves were down to two burners and a sometimes-working-but-75-degrees-off oven. If there is such a thing, we have been soul-sisters as long as we’ve known each other.

We live a few states apart and rarely see each other, but last weekend we finally got together, the first time in at least seven years. We rented a condo on the beach in South Carolina’s lowcountry, Saint Helena Island. We both brought a container of cut-up raw vegetables and forgot our bathing suits—that’s how much we think alike. But when you are with a soul-sister, you don’t need much. We had an endless beach and 48 hours to talk and that was enough.

(All scientific names and descriptions from the iNaturalist app.)

Oliva sayana: Lettered olive

A species of large predatory sea snail, a marine gastropod mollusc.

I love finding unique shells and really wanted to bring this one home, but the little guy living inside did not approve. I knew if I brought him home, he would die and then my beautiful olive shell would stink something awful.

Sometimes I want what I want, when I want it, but God does not approve. He has his plan and his timeline, and if I’m smart, I’ll pay attention and trust him to work it all out the best way possible. Then my life won’t stink and I can enjoy what he’s made.

Stomolophus meleagris: Cannonball jelly

Also known as a cabbagehead jellyfish. Underneath the body is a cluster of oral arms that extend out around the mouth. These arms help with propulsion and catching prey.

If you’ve ever been to a lowcountry beach, you know it is flat waaaaaay out there. When the tide is low, you come over the dunes and walk a quarter mile to the edge of the water over hard, wet sand and through tide pools. It’s not like the beaches you see pictures of in travel brochures.

We saw hundreds of these jellies lying on the flats in tiny puddles of water, stranded when the tide went out. They must not have been paying attention to the gradually receding ocean. It reminded me of me, not paying attention and getting stuck with no way of rescuing myself, having to wait for God to bring the tide back in and hoping I would survive until it got there.

It also reminded me of how we learn from the Lord: “here a little and there a little” (Isaiah 28). Growth comes slowly, sometimes painfully so. We want to be back in the ocean right now, but here comes God’s word, reminding us of what we forgot, “precept upon precept, line upon line,” a little at a time. Sometimes we lie in a shallow tide pool, barely hanging on, begging God to bring the tide quickly. But God has appointed the times of the oceans and he works all things together for our good if we love him. It’s best to pay attention.

Boneyard Beach

This might be my favorite beach ever. At low tide you walk among hundreds (thousands?) of dead trees, all knocked down by wind, ocean, and storms. The power of God is evident in so many ways in this one place. The photo on the right shows the dried-out root system of this enormous tree. Do you see how the roots don’t just come down from the trunk and run straight out away from the base? They are interwoven, tangled, twisted up, holding on to each other.

Paul’s prayer for the saints at Ephesus was, “That Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith; that ye, being rooted and grounded in love, May be able to comprehend with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height; And to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge, that ye might be filled with all the fulness of God.”

Being rooted and grounded in love is how we comprehend the love of Christ, which we can’t comprehend any other way, and it’s how we are filled with all the fulness of God.

Eudocimus albus: White Ibis

Medium-sized wading birds that use their curved red beaks to probe the mud looking for tasty treats.

According to allaboutbirds.org, the male white ibis is extremely protective, especially during nesting season. He guards his female and his nest ferociously. If another male tries to woo his lady, he clamps down on the offender’s neck or wing until the bad guy cries uncle and leaves. We actually saw some bloodshed among the trees full of birds—these guys are serious.

Isn’t that just like the Lord, our protector? Psalm 91 says he is my refuge, my fortress, my shield. It says that no evil will befall me and that he knows my name. He commands his angels to keep me in all my ways.

These trees were full of ibises and other birds—wood storks and herons and egrets and others I didn’t know—hundreds of them. All marsh birds that congregate in this little cypress wetland every year to nest. What a beautiful place to spend an afternoon and be reminded that God covers me with his feathers.

Egretta Caerulea: Little Blue Heron

Smaller than his cousin the Blue Heron, this little guy quietly stalks fish and amphibians for his supper.

We watched him snapping twigs off with a quick twist of his head and taking them back to his mate so she could weave them into a nest. Even though he was prettier than other birds in the marsh, he seemed to be more introverted, preferring a quiet life. I could relate.

God encourages us to “study to be quiet, and to do your own business.” That’s the Little Blue Heron.

Lithobates catesbeianus: American Bullfrog

Large frog with big eyes and a loud, deep voice. (Ew.)

We heard the frogs calling to each other and finally saw this guy sitting very still on his branch under the bridge we were on. Then suddenly the frogs stopped and were silent. A minute later we figured out why. Not far from him there was an . . .

Alligator mississippiensis: American Alligator

Do you see him in the first photo? The second is a close-up. He was maybe six feet from the bullfrog and was probably contemplating how he could get to him in one quick movement through the tangle of branches. We stayed and watched the breath-holding drama for the longest time, and finally the alligator decided his chances were slim. He slipped back under the water and went on his way.

Did the bullfrog know he was being watched? He was completely still and quiet while the alligator was behind him. I hoped Mr. Frog would get away if the alligator made his move. I’m thankful I didn’t have to see it.

Did you know as a child of God you are being watched every minute? Peter said, “Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.” My guess is that the frog was aware of his adversary behind him and used his best defense: stillness. The Lord tells us to “be still and know that I am God.” Be aware. Be still.

Boujee (Bougie): From the French bourgeois

adj: someone or something that acts like they’re high class when they’re really not.

Because every beach weekend requires the consumption of as much ice cream as possible, we ate it for dinner twice, once here. If you’re ever on Saint Helena Island, please have a boujee bowl for supper and get the one with cookie butter drizzled on it. It’s heaven in a dish of acai sorbet.

T, I love you like the sister I never had. Thanks for always pointing me to Jesus, for sharpening me like iron sharpens iron, and for making sure I eat my veggies before bedtime. Let’s do it again.