Sea foam washed over my feet as I waded at the dividing line between shore and surf. Like white soapsuds, the foam floated at the water’s edge, piled up in puffs on the beach, and scudded across the sand with each gust of wind. Caused by the agitation of the waves, the foam billows up quickly and seems to cover everything, but then disappears almost as quickly as it appeared. When the sun beats down and the wind abates, the foam vanishes, leaving no trace but a sticky scum. Sometimes situations in my own life create a kind of foam; I become upset and angry, fussing over details, annoyed by trifles, hurt over unintentional remarks. Help me, Lord, to ignore the foam that life generates, so I can continue to use my energy in your service. Give me the faith and patience to remain calm until the foam has subsided and the agitation vanishes. Amen.
I came across a broken whelk case on the beach this morning, twined in the sand like an intricately coiled necklace. I think of all the jewelry designs borrowed from
I love to watch the pelicans fly; they seem so choreographed in their flight, each dipping a bit, or soaring upward, or flapping wings in precisely the same sequence and
When my husband and I walk, we aim for specific spot, easily identified on the beach. Sometimes we try to go past that spot, adding each day to the length
