By Ann Farabee

It took all four of us to lug the needed supplies from our motel located a block away, but we needed all that stuff because we planned to find the perfect spot on the beach to spend the day.

Once we got there — decisions had to be made, and agreed upon.

That spot won’t work. The tide will be in soon. We need to be further back.

No, this spot won’t work. It would be too close to the people beside us.

No, if we take this spot, we will be in the path of the beach walkers.

We finally made our decision. We put down our beach towels and beach chairs.

Beach toys, beach games, beach balls, a book and the cooler loaded with snacks and drinks were all carefully placed around the outside edges of our towels, making sure they were in close proximity to our chairs.

Then came the dumping of everything in the beach bag onto the beach towels. This included various levels of sunscreen, a book, sunglasses, chapstick and sand in the bottom of the bag that had evidently been there since the previous year.

Mission accomplished. Our spot had been officially claimed. We had made it!

The family headed for the ocean, and I headed for the beach chair. Summer vacation had begun.

I would be staying in this spot all day. Nothing could pull me away!

After a few minutes of people-watching, my eyelids grew heavy, and my mind began to drift. A nap was in order. This was the good life.

The sounds of the ocean waves and of people passing by were soothing to my soul. A cloud must have passed over, because I could tell it had gotten darker even with my eyes closed. As much as I love the sun, the cloud brought a brief respite from the heat. Lord, thank you so much for our vacation.

Time no longer mattered. It was perfectly perfect.

Fifteen minutes into my summer bliss — I heard it.
CRACK! BOOM! The thunderstorm hit immediately!

The stuff was grabbed with zero regard as to who needed to carry what or where it belonged. We had to get out of there! With our heads covered with towels, we ran to the motel. As I began fumbling through my beach bag for the key, I heard the voices of my family, “It quit raining. The sun is shining.”

I had yet to notice. Why? I believe I was not expecting the sun to shine. I had assumed the storm would last. I had not even looked up to see.

Exactly how we can be in life, right? Not expecting the SON to shine. Assuming the storm will last. Not even looking up to see.

Isaiah 60:20 says, “The Lord will be our everlasting light. The Son will shine forever.”

Lord, help me to expect the Son to shine. Help me to know the storm will not last. May I look up to see. Amen.

Ann Farabee is a teacher, writer and speaker. Contact her at annfarabee@gmail.com or annfarabee.com.