Journey

Only in Washington does one go to the beach dressed ready for the next snowpocalypse.

Rain jacket, hoodie, columbia fleece, and a scarf wrapped across my forehead, over my ears, around my neck and tied under my chin.

I trekked along the water, wind blistering my face.  Three times the hail stung my nose and bounced off my glasses.  I pulled logs across the sand to build bridges where little rivers connected to the ocean, too wide to jump across.  Remarkably, my socks stayed dry even as I dashed away from the waves rushing towards the shore.

I walked and walked and walked.  Then I realized I was at my beach with my family, and they were probably starting to wonder where I went.  I turned around and walked back, leaping over puddles, praying the cars who drove across the sand would see me, because with the scarf tied around my head, I could not hear them.

As I walked along the path, crossing the sand dunes and entered the little town of Pacific Beach once more, I stopped short of the coffee shop at the rainbow looming in the sky.

Most rainbows I've see are multi-color streaks, shooting into the air.  This rainbow was almost a complete arch, stretching across the sky.  I could see the beginning and the end, but the part in the middle was somewhat hazy.

I found it somewhat applicable to my life.  I know where I am, and I sort of know where I am going, but that part in the middle - the part where everything happens - it's still a bit hazy.

Dear Jesus, I pray that you would give me just enough rainbow, just enough road, just enough direction, so I can keep stepping forward. Help my plan oriented self be satisfied with that.

I love you,

Amen.