Because we apparently can’t get enough of long car drives, yesterday the Hummer made its way as far west as it possibly could go. We drove until bumping into the Pacific, nose-to-nose with gulls, faced with a long jetty extending into salty sea spray.
The stunning Oregon coastline faded in and out of view, veiled by thick fog that beaded along our rainjackets. (The previous day Isaac made the comment, “I hope it rains tomorrow so we can go to the beach!” which seemed so backwards we laughed.)
It was a combination of sea spray and raindrops that left us damp and shivering, but the view was worth it. Mysterious, vague and vivid, so many blues danced against the ocean there couldn’t possibly be a name for all the shifting shades.
Matthew 8 kept returning to my thoughts as I took in the view. I have struggled and battled and endured some rough seas this past month, especially the past few weeks, making the decision to follow a call I wasn’t even sure I was hearing clearly.
But if I know the creator and calmer of even the roughest seas, I will be more than fine.
We climbed out to the end of the jetty, breathing in the damp, refreshing, salted air. A reminder that just because we arrived doesn’t mean the adventure is even close to over. It’s just beginning.
Matthew 8: 25 – 27
They went to him and woke him up. “Lord!” they cried, “Save us! We are going to die.” He asked them, “Why are you afraid, ye of little faith?” Then he got up and rebuked the winds and sea, and there was a great calm. The men were amazed. “What kind of man is this?” the asked “That even the winds and sea obey him?”