By faith the people passed through the Red Sea as on dry land; but when the Egyptians tried to do so, they were drowned.
Several years ago, Danny and I decide to take our blended family plus my niece, Rebecca, to Jekyll Island off the coast of Georgia. We set off for the six hour drive in two cars crammed with kids and luggage.
This makes the third summer in a row for Rebecca (left), Sarah, and I to visit Jekyll. We are eager to return to this enchanting place. Son, Daniel, is thrilled as this is the first family vacation he has been able to go on in years.
When we arrive at the condo Danny has rented, we realize it's a bit cramped for seven, but we don't mind. We plan to spend time indoors as little as possible!
We waste no time unloading and unpacking. It is a surprisingly pleasant June day. The heat of the south Georgia day is tempered by the cool, invigorating ocean breeze.
The condo sits facing the ocean and the beach is in sight. We can't wait to explore it!
Danny grabs his camera and off we go. Naturally, his boys, Giovanni (left) and Nicco (center), race ahead of us, calling to Daniel to hurry up with them.
Being the good sport that he is, Daniel obliges.
It is low tide. My favorite time to walk the beach.
Because, there is always some delightful surprise the receding tide has left there. Driftwood. Shells. Pebbles. Seaweed.
I love walking the damp, smooth sand in my bare feet. Treading with ease where just hours ago, waves of deep and perilous water rolled and crashed.
Where they will roll and crash again, wiping away my footprints, bringing more treasures from the sea to the shore.
Every time I stroll along a low-tide beach, I think of the children of Israel, passing through the Red Sea, on damp, but solid, ground.
Where water once stood and, by God's grace, is vanquished.
Not to return until the last and least makes it safely to the other side.
Then. Only then.
The thunderous roar of the mountainous waves rushing against each other. Drowning any one in their path. Washing away forever those thousands of foot prints.
But, never, the memory . . .
Are there places you visit that remind you of stories from the Bible?
Will you pray with me?
We thank you, Father, for oceans and seas and all the abundant life they hold. For beaches and tides and sweet salt breezes. For memories of good times spent with family. For all the blessings You give us every day. Amen.
Psalms 72 or 119:73-96
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