Sand

I took three of our grandchildren out to Doran Beach near Bodega Bay.  Rather than go down to the end of the road and have the children be tempted to climb the jetty by Campbell Cove, I lead them out onto the white sandy beach facing the ocean.  We carried our buckets, hand rakes and trowels, energy bars and Gatorade until we found the perfect spot:  warm sand a hundred feet from the wet sand and ocean waves.  I relaxed and watched them run.  One brought back treasures of shells, driftwood and other flotsam.  Naturally, the sand-lapping waves tempted them.  The Pacific is cold, and they screeched like seagulls when their toes first touched the salt water.  Soon, they were ankle deep, then knee deep. 

I like Doran because it’s safer than Goat Rock – another family favorite, but one that has a history of washing unwary people (and their dogs) out to sea.  Fishing boats come close, checking crab traps. 

One grandchild ended up knocked over by an incoming wave.  Another grandchild was to the rescue before I made the hundred yard dash.  We were all in the shallows, but sand has a way of getting into your clothing.  Luckily, the fallen child was wearing long pants and not a bathing suit.  She rinsed off in the surf and we rolled up the pants legs. 

Sand and waves – a dangerous combination.

When you stand on sand and the waves go out, you can feel the ground beneath your feet being pulled away.  If you stand long enough, you’re stuck; the waves keep pounding and you sink further.  Or – you’re knocked over and swept out to sea, maybe carried away by the current or pulled beneath the surface by an undertow.

I don’t want to stand on the ever-shifting sands of the world’s philosophies and man-made religions.  I want to stand on the solid teachings and promises of God through Christ Jesus who lived, died, arose and is coming again.