As I write this, seated alone in my room, a breeze plays over me from the open window. It isn’t a continual presence, but small puffs, gusts, and eddies that cool me. The breeze is scented with pine resin, with flowers that bloom on the porch, with the thickness of warm bay water under a hot sun, and with the salty scent of the sea. Papers stir on my desk, the curtains shift and bump against the screen, and I am stroked and touched by this gentle wind, my hair lifted and rearranged. How like God’s love is this breeze, surrounding me, cooling me, making me aware of its presence in the most gentle and loving fashion. I am fully aware, however, that the wind may disappear or may turn treacherous and destructive, but God’s love will always be there for me, bathing me in forgiveness for my sins, encouraging me in loving acts, and touching me with love holier than I could ever deserve. Thank you, Lord, for the breezes in my life. May their touch help remind me of your continual presence and love. Amen.
As I crossed over the boardwalk this morning, I met a woman taking a photograph from the walk, focusing on a giant stump half buried in the sand. I offered
On the bay side of the island, trees stand on the beach near the water. Their roots are exposed, spreading out below them as the dead branches fan out above
We desperately need rain on the island. Each day the fire danger increases, and at night I smell wisps of smoke from fires burning on the mainland. Neighbors have bushwhacked
