I saw a photograph of the island taken from a plane. How tiny it looks! The beach is a white ribbon, the trees a narrow band of green dotted with homes, and the bay beach another narrow band of white. All of it surrounded by water—waves rolling in with tiny flumes of foam visible in the picture. I felt small and inconsequential, threatened by the vastness of the sea and those waves that bite at the land. Then I realized all life is lived as an island in a sea; there is so much in our lives we can’t control, and so we try to keep our island safe and secure. I think of all the hymns that speak of God as a refuge in storms, a haven when the waves of tragedy or despair or death roll over us. Thank you, Lord, for being my security; no matter how the waves may wash over the island, you reach out your hand to me from the heights of Heaven. I need have no fear for you are my safe harbor. Amen.
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
The oleanders are fully in bloom! My yard is scented with a honey-like aroma that stuns me with its warm headiness. I inhale deeply, unable to breathe in enough of