I spoke with a woman in the store this morning. During our conversation, she said she’d once been in a church with a large congregation, and when she went to the altar for Communion, she returned to her pew and discovered her purse had been taken. How sad that during a time of communion, someone had chosen to rob rather than share. I thought of how things are sometimes stolen from me when my mind is elsewhere. I walk on the beach wrestling with other people’s problems or with situations over which I have no control, and I’m robbed of the day’s beauty and the ocean’s gifts. I let myself feel apart from God, and my faith begins to erode, just as the water bites at the shore. Forgive me, Lord, for letting you go too easily, for letting situations rob me of your presence. Yes, bad things happen, even in the church where there are more avowed sinners than anyplace else. Please help me to approach you always knowing there is nothing more important than my closeness to you. Amen.
The fog has lifted. At night I can see across to the mainland, where house lights, buoys, and headlights shine. It seems so busy and energized over there across the bay’s water, but there must be those who sit at home tonight alone, looking into the darkness. Inside their windows they may live in need—need of food and money, of self-worth, need of God’s presence. Perhaps they are hungry or abused; perhaps they look out of eyes that are tear-filled. It is too easy for me to look into windows as if they were mirrors, seeing only myself reflected back, seeing no one else. I pray for these people too, for all those who have no understanding of your love or your presence. Be with them, I pray, and grant them your peace. May I use the bounty you have given me for their good and your glory. Amen.
What a beautiful day! A cool wind blowing in from the north flattened the waves and made their meeting with the shore a subdued union. Despite the cool breeze (I in my jacket, naturally), I watched people in shorts and bathing suits enjoying the sun and the sand, throwing Frisbees, jumping in the wet sand, and fishing at the ocean’s edge. I love to watch families or individuals at play it lets me witness something simultaneously private and public. Surely our laughter is part of the godliness that resides in us, a gift Adam and Eve took with them even as they left the Garden. I believe we share God’s delight in His world when we laugh with one another over something as wholesome as the water and the shore. I can’t help but smile just watching His children celebrating. I think you, Dear Father, for reminding me that sun, wind, sand and ocean are reason enough to laugh, even when small ills trouble me. Thank you for the wonderful gift of laughter to celebrate!
A neighbor stopped by this morning with the sad news that there was a drowning yesterday on the island. High winds and rip tides made the gulf water dangerous. Apparently one person was in trouble, and another went out to assist but he was pulled into the waves and vanished. How terribly sad! What was obviously intended as a wonderful day of laughter and fun, of a picnic lunch and swimming turned into a day of tragedy and loss. In the midst of life we are in death—suddenly the hours are robbed of their joy, only grief and sadness left in their wake. We live in a broken world, a world where our human frailty Is most evident. I think of this family whose lives will change because of this day; I think too of God who grieves with them, whose love for the lost individual exceeds their own. My prayer, Lord, is for peace, comfort and strength in the days ahead. May those who mourn feel your presence; may they, even in the midst of their loss, find reasons to celebrate a life filled with joyful times. Only you, dear Lord, can bring them your peace and courage for the hours to come. Amen.
The fog has lifted. At night I can see across to the mainland, where house lights, buoys, and headlights shine. It seems so busy and energized over there across the bay’s water, but there must be those who sit at home tonight alone, looking into the darkness. Inside their windows they may live in need—need of food and money, of self-worth, need of God’s presence. Perhaps they are hungry or abused; perhaps they look out of eyes that are tear-filled. It is too easy for me to look into windows as if they were mirrors, seeing only myself reflected back, seeing no one else. I pray for these people too, for all those who have no understanding of your love or your presence. Be with them, I pray, and grant them your peace. May I use the bounty you have given me for their good and your glory. Amen.
What a beautiful day! A cool wind blowing in from the north flattened the waves and made their meeting with the shore a subdued union. Despite the cool breeze (I in my jacket, naturally), I watched people in shorts and bathing suits enjoying the sun and the sand, throwing Frisbees, jumping in the wet sand, and fishing at the ocean’s edge. I love to watch families or individuals at play it lets me witness something simultaneously private and public. Surely our laughter is part of the godliness that resides in us, a gift Adam and Eve took with them even as they left the Garden. I believe we share God’s delight in His world when we laugh with one another over something as wholesome as the water and the shore. I can’t help but smile just watching His children celebrating. I think you, Dear Father, for reminding me that sun, wind, sand and ocean are reason enough to laugh, even when small ills trouble me. Thank you for the wonderful gift of laughter to celebrate!