I walk down the paved road that runs parallel to the shore, then cross over the bridge where the men wait over crab nets and talk about how long they’ve been there and how they’ve yet to catch one.
I step onto the beach alone, and the sun is gloriously bright and warm, the sky pure blue and I exhale, Oh my God, this is breathtaking.
I cannot stop snapping photos on my phone of the shells and the rocks, the water and sky. My mind grows more alive with the deep quiet through waves’ roar and grasses’ subtle shift in brown and green against painted sky, marked with cloud streaks.
Everywhere I look, I see contrasts of the small and large.
At my feet are footprints — like fingers holding up “three,” and I imagine the sandpipers that might have left them, rushing along as they barely touched down. My running-walking shoes stamp big ruts in the dryish sand and when I see them laid out behind me, I can’t help but wonder of impact, legacy, as each forward step I make is cast into tan relief at my back.
In the sand, prints of all kinds crisscross. Human bare feet, dog pads, bird claws. The sun shines bright on them and so each is starkly unique while it mingles into a crazy sand quilt.
At my right, the ocean rushes deep and wide. Holes fill. Sand mounds wash flat. After the crash of waves, there are no marks, but the remnants of what waves carry.
I feel the roaring rattle in my belly while granules of sand flatten-crunch under foot.
I am small. I am important.
I am temporary. My life is significant.
I am treasured as unique. My life is hidden fully in God.
And now I can’t help myself. I am singing:
Ah, Lord God, thou hast made the heavens and the earth by thy great power.
Ah, Lord God, though hast made the heavens and the earth by thine outstretched arm.
He is all-powerful. He is stunning, and what he’s made is evidence of this indescribable beauty.
I pick up the next lines of the song as I lay feet in sand, and they seem a sudden shift:
Nothing is too difficult for thee, Nothing is too difficult for thee.
Great and mighty God, great in counsel and mighty in deed,
Nothing, nothing, absolutely nothing, nothing is too difficult for thee.
I walk this space with my God, this path of both-and.
Unfathomably vast Lord and King, yet the one who abides within.
Crafter of all heaven and earth, yet the one who sees and cares for me and moves in the small details of my life.
I am walking this middle path between the marks I leave and marks of him — everywhere.
In the shadow of sea and sky, all I really know is this great God and that I am his.
Joining up today with the last Concrete Words (for a while) at Amber Haines’ The Runamuck, though the dear Tanya Marlow will continue hosting us at her place. Whether on designated Mondays or not, I will keep writing about the power of everyday things we can touch, hold and see to teach us about what we cannot. Today’s writing began with the prompt: PATH.
And another note: Most lovely subscribing friends, please excuse the embarrassing photo you may have received from me under the guise of a post in your inbox last night. I am without internet on my home computer right now and so what you saw was the fruit of my dear hubby’s work to get his iPad working for me for the creation of today’s post. He used a photo he’d taken for our amusement at the sportsman’s show (of some unique purses) as a test, and somehow it was sent as a post. There was no deeper meaning there. I feel like I just walked around all evening with my skirt tucked into my nylons. I’m glad you’re my friends, though, or that could be really humiliating.
Connecting through the power of stories written, spoken and lived
![Sometimes nothing says it quite like the way of a child. Before the rest of the house wakes, I read the account of Easter morning in the Jesus Storybook Bible: "And it seemed to [Mary Magdalene] that morning, as she ran, almost as if the whole world was singing for joy-- the trees, tiny sounds in the grass, the birds...her heart." The tomb is empty. Jesus is alive, and so are we. And it is new. Once again. Yes, it is always new...He is risen indeed!](https://scontent.cdninstagram.com/t51.2885-15/s320x320/e35/17934124_1877271335863004_8139172358331039744_n.jpg "Sometimes nothing says it quite like the way of a child. Before the rest of the house wakes, I read the account of Easter morning in the Jesus Storybook Bible: \"And it seemed to [Mary Magdalene] that morning, as she ran, almost as if the whole world was singing for joy-- the trees, tiny sounds in the grass, the birds...her heart.\" The tomb is empty. Jesus is alive, and so are we. And it is new. Once again. Yes, it is always new...He is risen indeed!")
I’ve always loved how God’s creation speaks to you, Ashley, deep calling to deep, moving you, leaving you with nothing but a song of thanks to sing! I’ve always loved what happens when your tan feet hit the sand! This piece so beautifully describes it!!
And I so loved (and laughed hard) at that photo accidentally posted last night by Michael and you walking around unaware with your skirt tucked into your nylons! ;)
Haha! I am so glad I got to laugh with you about that this morning, Mama. How that helped ease my way into the day — instead of focusing on the oh-my-gosh-what-happened-and-how-did-he-do-that….Being able to greet Mike smiling about it this morning made all the difference. :-)
As to your other words, I’m always amazed at the ways creation points back to who God is and how he views his beloved. I am grateful for the ways he bids us to look up and around and chooses to speak to us in the grandness and smallness of it all. Blows me away.
Beautiful in every way! I am always stirred at the beach, aware of my small in His big and then humbled that he cares to know me. It is my special place in this world- where I marvel at the contrasts you describe, and the power, the beauty, the vastness. So thank you for taking me to my happy place this morning.
I must say I did LOL when that picture came through. :)
Haha. :-) Sis, I love that you and I share that experience of the beach and ocean and that God moves us there. I do feel so glad that we live close to such an amazing picture of God’s creativity and vast, yet specific love.
I love you.
Sooo jealous. I love the beach and feel so far away from it! Beautiful post and I love the photo.
I love it, too, Luann. If it helps, I do not take it in the least bit for granted.
I like the image of all of the different footprints crossing over one another in the sand. There’s never a shortage of something to think about or write about when you’re near sand and water.
Isn’t that true, Darcy? Thank you for stopping by.
Your words, this imagery, gives me goosebumps, Ash. And this, it makes me want to sing, too – “I am walking this middle path between the marks I leave and marks of him — everywhere. In the shadow of sea and sky, all I really know is this great God and that I am his.” What can I say – there.is.so.much.beauty.here. And for some reason, that picture of bare feet and dog pads and bird claws, it’s so glorious to me… because we’re all in this together, all of his creation, crossing through with our marks between his as we await redemption. The way God whispers songs to you in creation, it’s one of the things I love about you.
Oh, Amber, I love the ways you get the nuances of who I am and what I write and then speak it back to me. You bless me.
Lovely as always, Ashley
Thank you, dear Deb.
This image of walking between the both-and is powerful. You always give me something to think on. long, hard, and deep. As iron sharpens iron… I’m grateful for your words.
Thank you, Alicia. Your words truly blessed me today, too.
I think this may be my favourite of yours. It was so worshipful, my soul was singing along. I love the way you do the big contrasts, subtly, and the bringing together and use the song to switch between those two states. So good.
These were my favourite lines:
My mind grows more alive with the deep quiet through waves’ roar
At my feet are footprints — like fingers holding up “three,”
I feel the roaring rattle in my belly while granules of sand flatten-crunch under foot.
I am walking this middle path between the marks I leave and marks of him — everywhere.
Thank you, girl – I feel like you and amber are teaching me to write!
Tanya, your comment floors me. Thank you, friend. It is a joy to have met you through this writing community. You inspire me.
Dearest Ashley
I was wondering what on earth you were trying to tell us through that picture!!! Hahaha… Yes, my friend, I can see the two sets of footprints as you and your Pappa walk together on the beach and when the road gets too difficult there only remains one set … and we all know that it is His as He carries us through the storms of life. You have already left beautiful footprints in the sands of my heart by walking this way of life in our Lord with me with all your encouragement and I am certain in the hearts of many others as well! It is such a joy to know you and I told my husband the other day that it would be so nice to meet you all one day when we are all home at our Pappa’s house! I am still busy with my post on The Path and will link-up as soon as I am finished. This one lies close to my heart!
Much love
Mia
I agree, Mia. Won’t it be so good to meet? :-) Sending you much love and, as always, much gratitude for your words of love and encouragement to me, as well!
I felt myself right there beside you, dear Ashley…so beautifully felt and shared.
Sending so much love your sweet way…
How I’d love to share the beach with you. Glad we could through words. Much love back to you, dear one.
Thanks for dropping by He Cares For Us. I love your pictures and your sensitive heart and eyes – for what you see and what you “don’t see”.
I love your note at the bottom. I did a similar thing this Sunday and sent out the “JOY DARE” that was just a skeleton, by mistake. OOPS.
Oh well – Grace abounds with the people of Christ, right?
Blessings,
Janis
Amen to that! Haha! I had a new subscriber who told me it really had her wondering about this blog of mine. Thank you again, Janis, for your kind words. It’s so good to have “met” you.
Loved reading your words considering I jogged by myself for a half hour down Cannon Beach this morning praying & praising God…there was no sunshine for me, but still much beauty!
I was wondering about that photo!?! ;)
:) !!
A run on Cannon Beach. In every kind of weather, my goodness, what could be better?! Blessings, my friend!
Well, you made me want a Maryland blue crab and you got me to thinking, again, about legacy and what we leave behind. It won’t be a permanently clean kitchen floor, that’s for sure. May it be, for you and me, words that last and last.
Giggled about the photo. That’s the enemy, my dear; don’t be deceived. He doesn’t want you praising God like you do.
Brandee, your floor and mine could be great friends, I’m sure. I SO love our Oregon crab, but I’ve never had a Maryland blue crab. Now you’ve got me intrigued.
Here’s to lasting words! :)
Hiya, I found your blog through concretewords. I enjoyed reading this. That song, I haven’t sung it for years but wow it hit me so powerfully with wonderful memories. Nothing, nothing, absolutely nothing … So good to be reminded it’s still for now in this walk in between.
Liz, thanks so much for your visit and your comment! I wasn’t sure if that was a song anyone outside of my church knew. We haven’t sung it for some time either, so it surprised me when it sprung to my lips. I love when that happens. :)
Your writing always leaves a mark on my heart when I visit.. this one is so brightly optimistic.. I’ll carry it with me today! xx
Wow, thank you, Smidge. What a beam of bright for my day!
We try to get to the ocean twice a year.
Besides the the obvious enjoyment of vacations, the beauty of the Atlantic against the sand always has the same effect on me: God is so big, and I am so small, yet I am important to Him…amazing.
Love the sandpiper prints and your description of “fingers holding up three”.
Cheers,
Leah