The first thing to reach me is the rhythmic beat of waves on sand. It is the essence of subdued strength, not loud, but forceful. It is carried on an untainted breeze scented with brine and mingled with heat, tangy upon my tongue. As I draw closer, I see the vast expanse of undulating blue. Sunlight sparks off the surface and white lace adorns the swells. This is the kind of beauty that man seeks to create, but in the end, can only interpret. Yellow sand gives way to warm aqua, which fades to something too alive to be called navy, too deep to simply be blue. The depths extend farther than the soft curve of the earth's side.
But the ocean is better understood when you let the waves ripple over your feet, past your ankles and knees, and then let it cover you. A cool fluid embrace wraps around every inch and wicks the heat away. Perhaps it's the constant movement, that reliable ebb and flow, but it is impossible to become immune to the refreshing feel of cool against skin.
The swells, even mild ones, have the power to lift my feet from the sand and set me, laughing, where they please. There is a fearful wonder in these moments, knowing that just a flick of the ocean's power is more than I can withstand.
And God made it. He made it. He thought of the salty breeze, He planned the rush of waves, He plumbed the vibrant blue depths. The ocean is a great image of Him. Deeper than I will know in this world. Bigger than I can fathom. Always consistent, yet never quite the same, He sparks in each life as He chooses. He lifts us off our feet and draws us away from the scrape of sand and surrounds every inch, until all we can feel, all we can see, all we can think, is Him. He holds discoveries I haven't imagined and even beyond the horizon, He is there.
Thank you, God, for you. For the images of yourself you've planted in your earth. And for the moments when you reveal them. All my love!