Month: March 2017

  • Cloudy Windows

    Cloudy Windows

      My windows are covered with salt spray, especially those that look on the ocean.  When I peer out, what I see is clouded and spotted, distorted by the deposits made in each tiny drop.  My life is sometimes like that.  I am distracted by tiny ‘things’ that leave their mark on my vision, distorting […]

  • We’re Not an Island

    We’re Not an Island

    When I drive over the bridge to the mainland, I am reminded that island life makes it easy to see ourselves as separate, remote from the “mainland of humanity”.  Sometimes it’s tempting to make the bridge an ideological divide and not a way of joining land to land.  Forgive me my arrogance in thinking I […]

  • Sharing the Island

    Sharing the Island

       I began my walk this morning when a neighbor waved to me.  She is going through a very difficult time; she confessed that her life seems without value and meaning.  As we walked and talked, I could feel her despair and pain.  It would be wonderful to think my words or my company “cured” […]

  • Salt Spray

    Salt Spray

       An eastern wind blew against my face as I walked on the beach today.  My glasses quickly covered with salt spray and I couldn’t see the markers that usually determine the length of my walk.  I was cold and huddled inside my jacket, trying to draw breath against the wind.  And all the time […]

  • Crushed Shells

    Crushed Shells

    During this afternoon’s beach walk, I noticed footprints that attempted to crush each intact shell in their path.  Remnants of shattered shells lay in the pattern this person had left behind.  I wondered by someone would knowingly crush the whole shells, but then realized sometimes I do the same thing.  I see people’s success or […]

  • Sharing

    Sharing

    A new house is being built on the lot beside me.   The men work and call to one another, play their loud music, and operate their noisy machines.  I miss the peace and quiet I once knew, and feel cranky at the intrusion.  Then I realize I share this world and this island. Perhaps in […]

  • God’s Constancy

    God’s Constancy

      When I stood on the deck this morning, I heard a pinecone fall from the tree and thud against the deck floor.  I was startled at first, but them pleased too.  As I go about my daily affairs, you dear Father, continue to operate the world around me, timing the release of seeds in […]

  • Soft Rain

    Soft Rain

      This morning the fog dripped from the leaves of the pines, making soft sounds against the sand.  Sometimes when we need rain badly, I wait for thunderclouds and torrents of water.  Yet, this gentle fog serves the same purpose.  Quietly, softly, it provides moisture to the dry island sand, refreshing my limp flowers, renewing […]

  • Broken Starfish

    Broken Starfish

     Today I found three wounded starfish on the beach, each missing a leg.  They were touching one another.  I couldn’t determine if they had been one another’s victims or were tending to the pain of one another.  In either case, I was reminded that too often I mean to care for people but inadvertently end […]

  • Cry of Gulls

    Cry of Gulls

    This morning I went to visit a friend and heard the gulls crying near her porch, wheeling and shrieking with their loud, raucous laughter.  “They’re upset,” I said.  “No, they’re in love,” she responded.  I felt foolish, but then realized how often I mistake the actions of others.  I assume because they appear happy, they […]