I took a drive last night. The weather has been in a state of bright
perfection for several days now, and I knew I couldn’t spend another
evening inside. So I packed my pink jacket, a beanie and scarf, my
camera and tripod, and I allowed Sigur Ros to serenade my soul as I
drove the 45 minutes to Leo Carillo.
This is my favorite local beach — there are tide pools, caves, rocks
and small cliff faces to scamper around on, scuba divers, surfers, kids
jumping the gentle swells and people of all ages drinking in the
beauty. I arrived at the tail end of sunset and as the last traces of
fire left the western sky, I set up my camera to capture the eerily
mystical sheen on the water, cast by the rising moon.
I felt my soul expand last night. I sat on a smooth, high rock, tracking
the ascent of the moon, looking around when the waves broke on the
rocks and the tide came galloping up through the rocks to skim across
the waiting sand. I watched night divers swim out past the breakers,
their lights blinking and then disappearing into the depths. I found
out later they were hunting for lobster. I felt I had a lot of things
to talk to God about… what a doozy of a week it had been. I brought
up a few things, but I felt a stronger urge to become quieter and
quieter. Like His hand was pressing down on my heart, a finger on my
lips, while other senses were invited to grow and swell. I felt secure
and safe with His hand on my heart — He wasn’t constricting it… it
was the tender touch of a master gardener, pressing down good soil and
fertilizer around the tender shoots and blossoms rising up toward the
sky. The firm press of the good shepherd, checking His beloved sheep
for blemishes and plucking thorns from the wool… the sheep destined
for slaughter must have no imperfections. He will continually see to
that, as this particular sheep has a knack for getting pretty messy.
I eventually moved on from my prime spot, and wandered around a little.
It’s an extensive beach, with lots to do when the sun is high and
friends are abundant. As it was, it was dark and I was alone. Much of
my initial fear at being alone had dissipated, but it was reawakened as
I was walking down a moonlight strewn shore and there was a lone figure
wending it’s way toward me. I turned on my heel and booked it back to
my truck… No crime shall be committed against me this night! (Okay,
so I can be a little paranoid.) I decided to continue this ethereal
journey, and chose a circuitous route home. Instead of following my
tracks south and then east, I headed north on the Pacific Coast
Highway, driving by more beaches, along mountains meeting the sea,
through farmland as I cut east, up a beautiful and steep canyon by way
of a cut through the mountains, avoiding the freeway, and then a slow
introduction back into suburbia.
So what did I experience?
Him. Jesus. He was very present. There are so many things constantly
vying for my attention and analyzation, but He asks for one thing…
“Come be with me! Sit at my side! Drink in my beauty! Feel my embrace,
rest in my love. You are my beloved; on you my favor rests.� I want to
be ready for sacrifice, and I think that readiness is found by staying
close to my Shepherd. It was good to drink deep and find my thirst even
harder to quench.
