Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Again, with the modesty.

I just read the most beautiful post I have read in a long, long time. In Beach Baby, Melissa M. describes a sequence of beach-memories beginning with her childhood. As a seven year old, she gathers shells, encounters stranded stingrays, and walks down the beach hand-in-hand with her grandfather. As a teenager, she gets sunburnt while reading Jane Austen and mooning over a boy. Then she's a honey-mooning newlywed, a young mother, and finally a mother with growing and almost-grown children.

Exquisite. A gut-wrenchingly beautiful read for me as I fight an almost constant yen for Someplace Else and a wish that escaping to a beach was a lot closer than a days drive. And it was an interesting look at life's progression and time marching on. (Just this morning I was musing that in one week, Brandon and I will have been married for seven years and how that's equivalent to high school and college. But these seven years have passed by a lot more quickly than high school or college did alone.)

Then.

One of the commenters asked about her honeymoon bikini: Why did she think she should wear one? Just because she was now married, she didn't need to be modest anymore?

REALLY??

Good feelings gone. (Dori, Finding Nemo)

3 comments:

Lorraine said...

hahaha. How are you? I really am missing morning walking.

jamesrivergirl said...

I'm good. We went to the temple tonight and I saw a Minerva Teichert of Christ in a red robe and I love that painting. And it made me think that He covers everyone, even honey-moon haters. I felt guilty for being judgemental about someone else being judgemental. It was a little dose of humility for me.

Anyway, I bought you something at Walmart the other day. Hope I got it right. We'll see when you get back. Are you staying for August too?

LINDSEY said...

I read the Segullah post, and you're right--it is beautiful. And the swimsuit comment sort of makes me want to go out and buy a bikini. I won't, but... I second your "REALLY???" motion. And I admire your guilt and insight about judging someone who's judging. You're so great, Carrie. My life is only better for knowing you.