We drove to the beach on a whim yesterday afternoon. The kids didn’t have school today – or tomorrow – and we needed to get out of Dodge for a while. We pulled up to the beach as the sun was setting. Washington is unique in that you can drive on the beach in designated areas. I don’t remember ever doing that in Oregon.
We ate our dinner with the hatch of the car open. It was cold and mostly overcast. It wasn’t windy or raining, thank goodness. We watched the sun set and a few brave souls frolic near the wave line. Ruby and I walked down to the water. The ocean churned moody gray and brown flecked with foam, probably from leftover storm surge. Broken sand dollars covered the beach at regular intervals, gleaming white against the wet brown sand.
Time seems different at the beach. The things of this world seem dim and far away. It’s like the eternal quality of the place emerges, unobscured by man-made edifices. The beauty of the beach – ocean and sky, clouds and stars and sometimes sun – fills me in a way multitudes of green trees don’t. The tide rises and falls with the pull of the moon. I still find it intriguing after all these years. The seagulls swirl, diving and swooping, scavenging whatever they can find. I watched a blue heron fish for its supper in the winter twilight as we drove home.
I am reminded anew of God’s faithfulness. The sun continues to rise and set. The earth spins. The ocean continues to lap the shore, coming in and going out, day after day. All these things are in place until Jesus returns. The ocean dictates the weather in our part of the world most of the time, pushing clouds and cooler air inland. That’s the extent of my meteorological knowledge. There are times when predictability can be a very good thing. They say time and tide wait for no man. But maybe they just keep coming around to meet us.