This morning the high waves swirled seaweed around my feet, leaving small stands on my feet and legs. It washes up on shore in piles that resemble cut grass, capturing small shells and bits of sea life in its tangles. When it dries, the sea grass is covered by sand or blown against the dunes and dune fences. It becomes part of the shore vegetation, capturing the sand and helping to stabilize the beach. I think of the tumult that ripped the weed from the ocean bottom and the final use to which it’s put. I’m reminded of my grandmother whose faith was often tested, but who held fast even when torn from her native land and deposited abroad. Her faith and example were a foundation for my own faith. I watched and learned from her love, compassion, and absolute conviction in the goodness of God and the resurrection of Jesus. Like the sea grass that now provides for new growth and life, she gave me a trust that I wanted to copy. I thank you, Lord, for the faith of those saints who precede us, on whose convictions we help build our own faith. Amen.
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
I came across a grim sight on the beach today—a crab was eating another crab, one that resembled him so closely the two—one live, the other dead–could have been twins.