the perfect evening

It was the perfect evening to be at the beach.

I needed to get of the house; away from people and from artificial lights and, for just a short while, escape normal life.  And so we walked the pier.  Silently.  Slowly.

I paused halfway down the walk and closed my eyes.  The sun shone warm upon my eyelids.  The wind swirled around us blocking out all the sound of traffic and people and even the tinny tune of the ice cream truck that passed by.  We were left with the roar of nature assaulting our senses.  Crashing waves which lulled me half-asleep.  Gulls cawing as they circled around us.  The wind hugged me tight, blowing the hair that had managed to escape from my ponytail.  In the air, a gentle hint of the smell of the Gulf.

I never wanted to leave.

We walked to the end of the pier, still silent.  There the fishermen were out for the evening, rods lined up in a row.  Sailboats dotted the horizon, taking advantage of the fair winds.  To our left, standing nearer the shore, men cast nets in hopes of catching seafood.  I didn't dare open my mouth and ruin the perfect tranquility.

God always seems closest when I am near the ocean.  I could sit silently for hours, unable to utter a single word.  Yet my heart making up for it by penning the most intense and sincere psalm of gratitude.  Gratitude for how He has revealed Himself.  Gratitude for the beauty of the world around me.  Gratitude for life abundant through His sacrifice.  And mostly, gratitude that someday His presence will be far closer to me than it ever is here on earth.

Repost: Journal Entry

Journal Entry January 24th, 2010
Originally Posted January 25th, 2010

It is 5:00am. For hours I have tossed and turned, searching for relief from my pain. I find none.

I detest, I loathe my body. This is strong language, yet it is the secret that I carry of abhorring my very being. Fighting bitterness over disappointment and despair of a body turned against me. It rebels. I have little control. What hope is there? What reason to push on and fight for another day?

At 5am (as I wait for dawn after a painfully slow night) it is difficult to see any. Yet I must go on. I must fight. I must wage war against my flesh. I refuse to let me body win. I refuse to be captive to it. I refuse to let it suck all the joy from my life.

Dualism. I am more than simply a physical being. I have a soul that can never die. While my body languishes away, my soul can be filled aplenty as it gorges on God's grace and faithfulness.