Prayers from the Island Treasure Hunt

Treasure Hunt

My husband collects floats that wash ashore.  When we discover one on the beach—especially if it’s in good condition—we congratulate one another and eagerly bring the Styrofoam ball home as if we’d stumbled over treasure.  It’s true we have no good use for them, though they presently encircle the sign naming our house, float from our dock, or sit in the yard.  Purposeless.  How often my Bible reading resembles this ‘treasure hunt’.  I come across a verse that speaks to me or to the situation a friend is in, but once I’ve found the verse, I let it sit in my mind’s backyard, never quite putting the verse to use.  I need help Lord, to incorporate your message into my daily life.  Remind me to phone a friend or write a note, to pass along the verse so its value may be increased.  Each word from your Bible is a gift; help me share the treasures you’ve so freely given to me. Amen.

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Soft RainSoft Rain


This morning the fog dripped from the leaves of the pines, making soft sounds against the sand.  Sometimes when we need rain badly, I wait for thunderclouds and torrents of water.  Yet, this gentle fog serves the same purpose.  Quietly, softly, it provides moisture to the dry island sand, refreshing my limp flowers, renewing the greenery around my deck.  Dear God, your love, like the gentle fog, sustains me even in times of apparent drought.  Sometimes I demand immediate answers and quick responses from you—torrents of action and assistance—but your answer may be, like the gentle fog, one of quiet support and renewal.  Just as the blanket of fog shrouds the island, your presence settles over me and gives me quiet peace and strength.  May I respond to your love always without question and without disappointment.

Something MissingSomething Missing

 I love to carry my camera with me as I walk, taking pictures of things that catch my attention .  I look through the lens and feel the photo will be perfect, capturing the entire range of what lies before me.  A heron strutting for a fisherman’s attention, a gull soaring in blue sky, shadows against the beach crossover–each picture seems capable of full reproduction.  But when I examine the developed pictures, I’m often disappointed.  So much has been lost, so much of what I valued in the scene can’t be captured on film.  I sadly file away the photos, knowing they represent only part of what I felt and saw.  I think of my church experiences.  I have worshiped on my own, without being in the presence of my fellow believers, but the experience is somehow lacking, never providing for me all that being in church gives me.  It’s always less than what I experience.  I thank you, Lord, for the opportunity to worship with other Christians, and for the enrichment their faith brings to my faith. Amen.

Fog and FaithFog and Faith

  What a beautiful morning!  We walked on the beach bare armed and bare footed, catching our breath when the cold water washed over our feet.  By noon a thick fog began to roll in, penetrating spaces between trees and shrubs, lowering its drape over the water.  How quickly the weather can change here, shifting from mood to mood.  How quickly my faith can change too!  I commit myself totally one minute, and just a brief interlude later find myself doubting and questioning.  Dear Father, you’ve given us a changeable world with changeable weather and changeable fashions.  Remind me that even my questions and doubts are part of my faith, encouraged and enabled by you, steps leading me deeper into the true belief you offer. Amen.