The ocean didn’t reflect like a still, dark pond. It crashed in, carrying jumbles of images and memories, dumping them on my feet and spraying them salty on my skin. I waded in the surf many times a day, silently searching the shells and smooth stones. Each morning I met the newest light and the fresh, cool sea air. I gobbled those molecules to sustain the hours. The days were never boring or uncomfortable but they were long. Being attentive to moments makes them full and ample.
I liked to watch the sandpipers skittering near the water. These tiny birds with quick, skinny legs probed the sand for food the moment a wave receded and instantly, like fighter jets, raced off in all directions ahead of the next frothy curl. I didn’t get the feeling that sandpipers reflect or consider much besides eating and avoiding being pulled into the vast ocean.
Sandpipers might not need to reflect, but I do. Though they were the cutest things to watch, I wouldn’t want to be like one, to spend my life sprinting and grabbing and sprinting again. But this is how I become when I don’t abandon my busyness once in a while and reflect. If only for an hour.
God met me in my reflection. He had some puzzle pieces to drop into place too. Who knew He was holding them the whole time? God welcomes my reflection. It is slow, sane time together when He gifts me with the pearls I miss as I busily run from here to there.
Examine yourselves to see whether you are in the faith; test yourselves. Do you not realize that Christ Jesus is in you—unless, of course, you fail the test? 2 Corinthians 13:5
Meeting God at the Park 