With much enthusiasm, I accepted an editorial position for our “Transformations” publication. My first assignment entailed a testimony of a gal who felt uncomfortable to write it herself. She tearfully shared while I furiously filled fifteen yellow-pad pages. I transcribed her story and spent hours editing and re-editing. Finally, I handed it back to the author for last minute corrections. She took it and rewrote the entire story! 

My perspective went south as the “Attacker” went for the jugular, “Remember the last time you stuck your neck out with something creative and nearly got it chopped off?” Remember how all your hard work came to nothing?” he snorted. The next morning, when I sat quietly before the Lord and cast all my cares on Him, He breathed into me the sandcastle message and released me to walk in freedom.

Over many years since, I worked tirelessly to complete a new book called, Chronicles of Fragrant Grace. This book records my life story with a backdrop of the three migrations of my ancestors from Holland, through Prussia and Russia, and to America because of religious persecutions. It also includes my parents’ life stories and my husband’s family heritage. After my Beta Readers gave suggestions to add pictures, maps, and genealogical graphs, I prepared to publish the 330 pages of research and memories that reveal God’s amazing grace to me and my people through many trials, heartaches, and triumphs.

However, a tsunami suddenly washed all my work out to sea and I came before the Lord in confusion, disappointment, and heartache. He gently reminded me of how He asked Abraham to sacrifice his beloved son, Isaac. Abraham obeyed in faith and God provided a ram to sacrifice instead. Whether God provides another way to publish my story, I know not, but the sandcastle story provided me with an even better alternative.

SANDCASTLES

Dealing with Disappointment

The sea roared in my young ears as I hovered intently over my work. The sun-warmed sand pressed against my bare legs as my hands dug into the cool, wet sand. I scraped the top layer away to create a smooth, hard surface onto which I carefully inverted each cupful of moist sand. Hours passed as I built, carved, and molded a fortress with high walls with turrets and towers painstakingly formed around the perimeter. Carefully I cut the details of windows and doorways. Perspiration trickled down my face, and deep breaths of salt air filled my lungs as I struggled to scoop out a full mote to protect my castle from enemy attacks. A small canal to a nearby stream provided water to fill it, and a piece of driftwood made a perfect drawbridge. The sun dipped to the horizon as I completed my work with a seaweed flag on the topmost tower.  

I stood back to fully enjoy the work of my hands, a goal completed, a project realized. I watched the lengthening rays of the sun glisten upon my perfectly crafted castle. I caressed a sense of satisfaction that I accomplished something so grand. Even as I took in the bordering cliffs, the breadth of the beach, and the ocean’s vast expanse, I felt the significance of my contribution. However, the fact that the security of my castle rested on sand, alluded my immediate attention.  

I heard waves crash upon the beach—one wave following another. My eyes traced the dancing white foam mirrored in the water as it slid back along the shore. I watched a living, breathing tide encroaching, rushing across the sand. The sea thundered in my ears. A wave rose high above the rest, crested and fell, then swept toward my castle. It was a leviathan army of swift destruction! Down went the turrets and towers and walls! Away went the mote, and the bridge and the flag!

One moment—a high fortress reflecting the golden sun, the next—surging, swirling, blue-green brine, spinning dizzily around my legs. Before I caught my balance, another wave of demolition rose and receded, sucking the last of my kingdom into the sea. Nothing remained of what took so much time and energy to build. I stared in disbelief!”

Waves of disappointment, discouragement, and disillusionment continued to rise, threatening to suck me into a sea of despair. “This is no big deal,” I tried to tell myself. “He is God; I am not. He can do as He pleases. He gives, and He takes away. After all, this is His sand, His sea. Yet, my heart found no comfort by such knowledge. Suddenly I felt helpless and insignificant between the high cliffs and vast ocean… and I wept.

“My child,” He spoke gently, “Come, follow me.” I looked up to see His outstretched hand. I took it, and He lifted me to my feet. Hand in hand, we walked along the beach in strained silence.

“You built a wonderful sandcastle and can feel proud of a job well done.” 

I shrugged. 

“Do you think it is better to build sandcastles than to be with me?” 

“Well, I wanted to make it for You,” I answered with tears streaming down my face. 

“Do you know what is even more precious to Me than all your hard work and beautiful creations? 

“I can’t imagine what!” I said, “I did my very best.”

I’ve seen thousands of sandcastles, but do you know what you can give to Me that I do not yet have?” I looked up in amazement at this strong and gentle person beside me. His cosmic eyes met mine. 

“You can give me your trust,” He said. We continued our walk in silence. “Do you know that building sandcastles will never make you important? Did you remember that you can never trust sand? The happiness you felt can’t last because nothing on this beach will remain. Your trust in Me is more precious than all the sandcastles in the world. They will all wash away. Only I will never leave you or forsake you.”

The next day, I found myself back on the beach with Him.

“Will you build another sandcastle for me?”

“But, Lord,” I answered, “The waves will only wash it away!”

“Build it anyway.” He said as He moved away and left me to my newly assigned task. I scooped up the sand and began to build… half-heartedly, not caring to put much time or effort into something so temporary. I soon finished and stood back. It was “so-so”—a couple small turrets, no towers, no mote, and no drawbridge. The tide was out, and no waves came to wash away my sullen attitude. Some people strolled by, but I didn’t care much anymore what they thought. A shadow crossed my new creation. He looked down upon my half-hearted attempt to do what He had asked of me. “For me?” He asked.

I dared not look into His eyes. “It will only wash away again,” I mumbled. His silence roared in my ears like the waves. Though He spoke no words, I felt nakedly ashamed. Slowly I looked up, and when our eyes met, I was surprised to see Him smiling. In fact, such a twinkle sparkled in His eyes that I suddenly saw my ridiculous and childish attitude that brought amusement to His face. I realized I did a lousy job building this castle to pay Him back for washing it away the first time. 

Instead of consuming me in the fire of His indignation, He threw back His head and began such a rolling, jolly laugh that a giggle escaped my own lips. How silly I behaved! Who can pay God back? How absurd! The wind caught our laughter and danced wildly around us. Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than whatever He asked of me. It didn’t matter that it may or may not be washed away. What mattered was His intense and joyful love for me.

He spoke again, “My precious child, I am worthy of all your hard work, your time, your effort. If it is washed away, consider it a sacrificial offering—a pleasing aroma rising from my altar. Make it the very best offering that you can give. My Father did not give anything less. He also sacrificed His best.”

At that moment, He leaned down and picked me up. My arms circled his neck, and I rested my head upon his shoulder. We moved across the sand, carried along by His broad strides beneath us. From my sacred perch, I watched the waves return and wash over my stubborn, prideful, self-willed sandcastle attitudes. Then they were gone, and I knew He wouldn’t remember them anymore. From this heightened perspective, the beach stretched on forever. Maybe tomorrow I would build another sandcastle—a really big one… or perhaps we could create one together. Or, we might just look for stuff, like shells, or agates, or starfish… and not build anything at all.  The ocean breeze mingled with the scent of his hair, and I rested from all my work.