An enduring memory of my childhood summers is time spent bobbing in the surf past the breakers off Shellharbour Beach on an inflatable surf mat. My Dad, the strongest of swimmers was just a few meters away instructing me as to which wave to catch, when to start kicking & what to do to make it back to the beach.

Every now and again a set of 3 monster waves would come along. You could see them emerge on the horizon, slowly the body of the wave would build, adrenaline surging through my being as the wave seemed to darken the sky above. Although I did my best to get ahead of the wave, the outcome was never clear until the wave started to break. I would paddle like mad and pray. It could then go three ways: I would have the most exhilarating ride of my life, propelled at speed ahead of a wall of white foam towards the beach; or be submerged in the tumult of a briny washing machine, repeatedly slammed into the sand, wondering if I would ever make it to the surface before I ran out of air. Given I am writing this, 40 years on, is testament to the fact that eventually the tumult beneath subsided enough for me to propel myself to the surface, emerging like a sand covered cork, without surf mat or swimmers, sucking in the salty air with relief, thanking God I was still alive. There of course was a third option, which even as a 10 year old, was not lost on me - not emerging to the surface at all.

This year for me has felt like a slow-motion re-run of my childhood summer on my surf-mat. Whilst in Kuala Lumpur in January, I caught a glimpse of the COVID wave on the horizon. As the wave grew in February and early March, reminiscent of my Dad years ago, I found myself coaching the teams I lead - about the things we needed to do to give us the best shot at emerging on the other side of the wave - and I prayed. My husband was doing the maths on how long we could survive without an income. There was never going to be an exhilarating ride to the beach, only option 2 or 3 were on the table. Like many others, the ‘washing machine’ was intense as I worked longer and harder than ever before, whilst at the same time, doing school for our son with a disability.

This Christmas, after having paddled like mad and emerging relieved, exhausted and ‘covered in sand’, again I thank God for his mercy, blessings and the basics - life, health, shelter and hugging my family - no matter what tomorrow brings. If nothing else, 2020 has been a reality check, we are not the masters of our destiny, no matter who we are, or what we have. It’s the perfect reminder that we are totally reliant on God for all things, and the world more than ever needs to know the truth of 1 John 4:14 - that God sent his Son Jesus to be the Saviour of the world. What a comfort, and what a message we have to share!

AINSLEY POULOS

Ainsley is married to Archie and they have two daughters, one son and one son-in-law. She is the chair of the EQUIP Ministry Wives Conference. Christmas usually involves trip to see family on the NSW North Coast.

This Christmas...