Last week, we were at the beach for spring break eating breakfast at our resort when one of the security guards ran past us and sprinted across the boardwalk to the beach. We wondered what the hustle was about. A few minutes later he came sprinting back and told our waitress that there was a beached dolphin.
Merit (my 5-year-old) is obsessed with any animal (she has told us since she was 2 years old that she wants to be a zookeeper), so naturally, we had to go see what was going on. When we arrived at our beach…security had created space between the dolphin and the onlookers. It was alive - calm - every time a wave would come, the water would splash over top of it. It would move a little, but not much.
I was holding in my tears - the thought of it suffering broke my heart. Eventually, the security staff rallied some of the men from the crowd to move the dolphin further away from the water (per instructions from the dolphin experts who were on their way). They kept soaking a towel and placing it on top of the dolphin.
I sat with Merit and my wife as we watched what was happening.
Merit said, “I am sending love from my heart to the dolphin’s heart. It can hear me, ya know.”
She was telling it that everything was going to be ok. She didn’t know that I also needed to hear it - tears were streaming down my face.
With Merit in my lap, I looked up, and about 100 yards out in the ocean was a school of dolphins circling…being onlookers, just as we were.
I bawled. The thought of all of us coming together for the sake of one sacred being was way too much for my heart to handle.
Once the dolphin experts arrived, they found a wound on the underbelly of the dolphin - vitals were good, and the dolphin was responding well. They sedated it and were able to transport it to a local rehab facility where it could be treated.
Happy ending? Absolutely and thankfully.
What struck me the most about the dolphin was its vulnerability. And, perhaps, that is what was stirring inside of me as I watched it lie there. I felt helpless in the entire situation. But, Merit taught me something so special that day…
We are never helpless in any situation.
We couldn’t do anything to physically help the dolphin, but we could hold space for it. I have no doubts that the school of dolphins circling was doing the same. We were all concerned, together. We all sent love, together. We all hoped, together.
It’s possible that the outcome could have been different. The dolphin could have been dying or it could have been sick, but that doesn’t change the experience of love that we all got to feel that day. Either way, we can all be concerned together, we can all send love, together. We can all hope, together…in any situation.
It doesn’t take an immense amount of energy to give love, but it does take a willingness to be vulnerable. And we all have that inside of us for when we choose to use it.
I saw the best of humanity, of life, last week. I always believe in it - but, when we are blessed to be witness to it…it makes us better. It makes us more trusting.
I will end with a conversation between Clare and Merit as we were walking back to our condo:
Merit: “This is a special day and not a special day.”
Clare: “What makes it special?”
Merit: “Seeing a dolphin.”
Clare: “What makes it not special?”
Merit: “Seeing a dolphin.”
This is a picture of my Merit watching the sunset. She is so magical.
One of your best!
Thanks so much for sharing. I loved how you shared about your daughter saying that she was sending love to the dolphin’s heart & she said that the dolphin could ‘hear’ her in that way … at her young age perhaps she was showing an insight available only to those who are open to that kind of thing … that really touched me.