This morning I sat alone, for a long time, on the north pier. Surrounded on all sides by a living photograph. The water glistened. The green grasses of the marsh off to one side and waves lapping on the rocks. A small fishing boat perfectly placed in the distance. Sea birds darting over the water in their dance of joy. Sunlight breaking through the cotton-candy clouds. No photograph could have done it justice.
And on the osprey nest just yards away, young birds flapping their wings, building up the muscle to spend their lives in the sky. The privilege of my existence, in that place, at that moment did not escape me.
The wonder of God’s creation in one small slice and I had it all to myself. I said aloud, “Lord, I still find it hard to accept that I am your beloved. But allowing me to be here now is pretty convincing. Thank you.”
Lately the persistent evil side of life, our human brokenness, has been especially crushing. But I was able to understand that the glory of God and our brokenness can coexist and that God’s love—being the beloved—cannot be diminished.