Nestor and the Skim-boarders

Tropical Storm Nestor popped up out of nowhere, an aberration for this late in hurricane season, and last weekend his appearance threatened my plans to attend a Christian writer’s workshop I’d eagerly anticipated for two months. So, every day I checked the weather forecast for Orange Beach as Nestor drifted towards the Panhandle. And every night I read emails from the workshop coordinator, eager to see whether the event was going to be canceled. Thankfully, the weather cleared and that Saturday morning I only had to battle a little drizzle during the 64-mile trip to the coast. I even made it to the church with 15 minutes to spare.

When I walked in, I was met with excited voices and friendly faces and as I expected, the all-day workshop was an enormous blessing. One of the main ideas that stuck with me was whether as a writer I am a planner or someone who flies by the seat of her pants. The speaker also reiterated the idea that we need to make a commitment to our writing in order to succeed. Once the conference ended and I exchanged hugs and contact info with some new friends, I drove to my favorite beach. As soon as I cut off the car engine and hopped out, I yanked off my good shoes and threw on my flip-flops. Standing there still wearing my dress clothes, I scanned the horizon where the afternoon sunshine played freeze tag with a sky full of fluffy gray clouds. Inhaling the salty air, I smiled and hustled down the weathered boardwalk that dropped me into soft piles of sugar-white sand. Almost as soon as my toes -which were sporting ocean blue nail polish- hit the sand, I could hear the waves roar. As I trudged further toward the shore, the sound grew and I spied huge rolling waves crashing one on top of another. The unusually high surf was the only evidence that overnight Nestor had brushed past the Alabama coast dropping off rain and stirring up the gulf. 

I stared past the breaking waves to a smattering of surfers who were patiently waiting for the chance to ride into shore. Then another group on the beach caught my attention and I walked over to speak to some board-short-wearing fellas. Each loosely held on to a short board that was propped on the sand in front him like a fiberglass shield. When I asked them about surfing, one guy politely explained they were skim-boarding and then told me the difference. I quickly caught on as I watched him and his friends run pall-mall into the surf, throw down their boards and skim the wave as they drifted back into shore. Amazed, I commented to the first guy that I could never be brave enough to do what they did. Without missing a beat his friend glanced at me and said, “You just need a plan. And then you need to make a commitment to it.” I nodded in agreement. That’s good advice for skim-boarding, for writing, and for life.