Of books, and lives, uncovered.

You know what they say about books and covers, but in the ways life unfolds as a story it’s often hard to reserve that judgment.

Last week I was standing in front of the unmanned lifeguard station at dog beach watching my two-year-old up on the tower enjoying his independence and making sure he didn’t jump off. Suddenly, the people watching the beach from behind him all stiffened as people do when they’re witnessing something socially unacceptable. I turned to see a man, at least 70 with his pants gaping and round belly flopped over the open zipper, squatting down over the jetty rocks with a grunt.

Ocean Beach has a large homeless population, so I’m sure I wasn’t the only one wondering if he was about to use the rocks as his toilet. Happily, that wasn’t the case, but proceeding to take off his pants and socks continued the moment’s awkward trajectory.

Sometimes, though, there are storylines we still feel drawn to even when the cover is disconcerting.

At this point, the man simply waded in the water. And when the first wave hit his bare shins, he turned around with the widest Cheshire grin on his face. Another older gentleman, still fully dressed, stepped closer to take pictures as the first waded deeper into the water.

Content that nothing inappropriate was happening, I turned most of my attention back to protecting Judah, but something about this scene in the water kept drawing my eyes back to the scene in the ocean. The partially-undressed man had tucked the legs of his boxers up into his waistband to walk further out into the water, and he paused to flash his large belly to his friend for a picture as he took off his shirt.

The man on the shore gestured for the man in the water to go out deeper. He did. And when the wave hit his belly for the first time, a whoop of excitement from deep inside him sprang from his mouth. This playfulness continued as he wrapped seaweed around his neck and did a muscle-pose for his friend. The grin that lit up his face the moment he’d stepped into the water hadn’t left, and he was clearly and fully enjoying every aspect of the moment.

His vulnerability reminded me that the best stories are those that catch us by surprise when we uncover how invested we’ve become in the characters, because their stories give us insight into our own.

Within minutes, my perspective had shifted from wariness to being choked up with emotion. I have no idea what the man’s story was. I can imagine a few possibilities, but it doesn’t really matter. What I saw was a person so intent on being completely present and enjoying his moment so fully that he didn’t care what anyone else on the beach thought. I envied him and found myself worried that someone might stop him before his mission was complete.

I have spent far too much of my own life story worrying about how my audience perceives every situation. And as this tale unfolded before me, I felt God talking to me, telling me it was my time. Don’t worry; I’m not going to get naked on the beach. But my story is about to take a turn. I will be brave and vulnerable and expose my desires. I will be more afraid of missing my moment than of how people might perceive me. And I will worry less about the outcome and focus more on experiencing the journey as the story unfolds.

I will live, uncovered.

For the latest piece of original work, I found a writer hiding if my own home. Heather Murphy Clark teaches composition and raises the three children we call ours. A big fan of YA, she usually prefers to be a reader of stories, so I'm thankful she was willing to share one of her own reflections here.