Dead crabs seem to litter the beach today. I wonder what killed them all? Was it red tide or a virus or perhaps just the sea’s turbulence the last few days? When I walk on the beach I typically see life, but occasionally I’m aware of death too—the shore is also a killing place. Each of the shells over which I step was once alive, the fish bones over which I walk were once part of living bodies, the scattered claws once belonged to living crabs. It is a somber thought, the mortality with which all living things are afflicted. And so I turn to you, Dear Father, grateful for your gift of eternity. May my days be used in your service, and may my death be a wave that washes me to your side. You, alone, are Lord over both life and death.
What an incredible companion is the sun! It begins my morning in an aptly named ‘sun room’—perfect in the winter months to bring the morning’s first light. Without fanfare
After a busy weekend, my beach walk reveals the trash of abandoned drinks—plastic and glass bottles, smooth plastic or foam cups, cooler jugs that have been broken and left behind.