Some sidewalks led to more exotic spaces than others.
Not that I don’t like strolling through my neighborhood, but there was an extra excitement bubbling forth as Sarah and David urged me down the sidewalk in San Diego leading to the beach. I couldn’t resist stopping to capture pictures of sea lions
and several of the dipping sun.
But Sarah and David ran ahead, calling that I must hurry if I was going to watch the sunset from the sand.
So I rushed ahead only to pause and snap more shots, then revel in the fact that I could run barefoot across the lawn of a green park and catch up to them. A year, and almost 60 pounds ago, I couldn’t have done it. I’m still shocked than I can now.
Once across the little park we rushed down some stairs to a beach so we could feel sand beneath our feet
and dip our toes in the ocean
as the sun took her own stroll on the horizon.
While she journeyed, we played her glow.
Once the sun disappeared
into the ocean
all that was left was a faint fragment of light reminding us of where she’d been. It was hard to see anything but shadowed outlines.
Sarah urged me to walk a little closer to a big rock. Trusting soul that I am, I did. Not making any new discoveries I questioned the quest, and she urged me on. I stepped closer. Suddenly the big rock arched it’s back, and I realized I was just across the space of my living room from a sea lion!
Delightful! (But too dark to capture on film.)
Sharing the moment with Sarah and David, knowing we were there for work, but playing together as family, was surreal. A hunger grew within to share this type of thing with Jerry and all the kids. To work and travel together, seeing the world, experiencing sunsets on horizons all across this great planet. And I was reminded of that day on the mountain last July when God told me it was okay to dream of such things.