The sandy shore is polka dotted with ghost crab holes in all sizes, from those so tiny they can barely be seen to holes that are several inches in diameter. When I walk from the crossover to the beach, I see crabs scatter to safety, apparently reacting to the vibrations of my feet. Occasionally I startle a crab, and he dashes for the water or for the nearest hole but finds it already occupied. There is an altercation at the entrance; either the current occupant will accept a visitor, or the crab must emerge, exposed, and rush for a second hole. How frightening it must be to flee for safety and find that refuge already taken! And how blessed I am that my refuge is never preoccupied or too busy to accept my presence, never unavailable or out of service. I thank you, Lord, that your presence and attention are always assured, never am I turned away when I come to you for help. Amen.