Wednesday, January 11

Returning Thanks

Read Genesis 1

I went for a walk this morning before the sun came up. Oh, it was trying, but the morning sun was having a hard time throwing of it's thick blanket of clouds to make a showing.

I love visiting the Oregon coast. The ocean can be counted on to thunder and pound against the rocks, no matter the weather--which cannot be counted on. This morning, the ocean did not disappoint. The water matched the sky in a shade of grey so perfectly matched there was no determining the horizon line. Pin pricks of lights bounced up and down on the waves. Early morning fishing boats. I was glad to have the solid ground of the bluff under my feet.

I gave thanks. For all of it.

The vastness of the sea and sky.

The separation of the two. I know it's there because I've read the story in Genesis about God separating the two. I just can't see the difference from where I stand.

The two matching grays.

The opportunity I have to be standing on a bluff at the beach in the stillness of the morning.

The 30 women on this retreat with me still at the house in various stages of wakefulness, all anticipating what the Most High has in store for us today.

My 3 guys at home. Holding down the fort. Missing me.

I kept coming back to that gray. It was unavoidable, really. Facing west and as far as the eye could see. Only white caps broke up the dull, yet stunningly beautiful gray.

At long last, I turned my back on the ocean to head for home. The sight nearly knocked me to my knees. There to the east were gentle clouds painted the most dazzling color of pink. The sky behind them, brilliant blue. Rays of brilliant sun stuck up from behind those fuchsia clouds.

 I glanced back across the ocean. Could it really be so bleak when it was faced with this stunning display? It was.

As I walked back home, bright light stinging my eyes, I thought, there has to be a lesson here.

Life seems gray sometimes. Different shades of boring all blending together. Certainly there are significant things happening just under the surface. And of course, if you look hard enough, there is raw beauty to it all.

But a simple shift in perspective can bring about stunning revelations. It's easy to get caught up in what we are supposed to be looking at. On the Pacific coast, no one anticipates the sunrise. It happens in the opposite direction of the majesty we came to behold. Leave it to God to be able to dazzle from any direction he pleases.

So the life lesson? Give thanks for the gray. You might just get rewarded with a flash of the extraordinary.


Ash Kahl said...

Beautiful post!

Anonymous said...

I miss the Oregon coast. I was taken back there for a few moments with your descriptions. I was totally able to picture what you were describing with your words. Thanks for sharing your gift with words. Oh and I also needed the lesson of the devotional with the picture to punctuate. Katrina