No crashing curls. No mist-filled air. Simply one rhythmic wave after another.
|Orange Beach, Alabama. Early morning moments.|
In moments so small they might be missed while in the moment, the landscape changes.
I stand on the shore and feel the ground fall away below me with each ebb and flow. The waves paint a watercolor picture of feast and fallow and feast again. On the shore is inscribed, “Behold, I make all things new.”
Let me not fight against the waves. Let this landscape change for the glory of God.