eyes fixed on the sea, on the constancy of the grumbling waves, the never-ending pattern of ebb and flow.
“Mightier than the thunder of the great waters, mightier than the breakers of the sea—the L ORD on high is mighty
.”
Remind me over and over of that truth from Your Word, Lord. Remind me!
The soft grains of dry sand gave way to the packed sand that the tides kissed daily. The walking immediately eased, and she put her cane down. She stood at the very edge of the water, watching the waves throw themselves at the shore, their energy driving them forward until there was nothing left but the tiny wavelets that licked the tip of her shoe.
But there were always more waves and then more still. They never gave up. Their strength was beyond comprehending, their quest to eat the shore unremitting. And they were winning. Ask anyone who knew anything about the ocean. If it weren’t for the unceasing efforts of man as he pumped sand from the ocean floor onto the beaches to replace the sand eaten by the relentless tides and the ferocious storms, barrier islands like Seaside would gradually diminish until nothing was left.
She closed her eyes for a minute, breathing deeply, savoring the sea air, feeling her spirit revive. The Lord was mightier than both the sea and the men who tried to circumvent it. Little girls got hurt, sometimes little girls even died, but God was mightier than any and all difficulties.
She had to believe that, or there was nothing.
She turned to walk along the water’s edge only to have her solitude broken by a pair of little boys who ran, shrieking for joy, across the beach and up to the edge of the water. The smaller one, a little tyke of four or five, was so excited to be on the beach that he ran in circles, waving his arms and yelling for the sheer bliss of it. His older brother looked at Abby.
“We just got here,” he explained. “We’re staying for the whole summer.” He pronounced
whole summer
with an emphasis that Abby understood completely.
“Me too.” She smiled. “Sounds like forever, doesn’t it?”
He nodded. “We never stayed that long before.”
“Me neither.”
“Just a week, you know?”
She nodded. “Two weeks tops.”
“But Dad got rich. Now we can stay and stay and stay.”
“Sounds wonderful to me.”
“Is your dad rich too?”
Understanding that he meant her husband, not her father, she shook her head. “I don’t have a husband anymore.”
He nodded. “Neither does my mom.” His young face looked sad for an instant, then brightened. “But I still got a dad.”
“I’m glad.” Divorce, Abby thought, fascinated by this little fount of information.
“Me too,” he said, his floppy brown bangs hanging over his eyebrows. “Do you live near here?”
“Right up there.” Abby pointed.
“That’s where we live too,” the boy said excitedly. “We live in the white one with all the glass.”
Abby nodded. She’d admired the remodeled house next door to Marsh’s with its wide decks and modern windows. “I live on the second floor of the house to the right of yours, the one with the awning.”
The boy squinted. “The old green-and-white house?”
She smiled. “The old green-and-white house.”
The little guy came to stand by his brother. Sand covered his dimpled knees and a streak of grains ran down his left cheek. He pulled on his brother’s shirt.
“Walker, we’re not supposed to talk to strangers,” he stage-whispered.
Walker looked down at him, condescension dripping. “Come on, Jordan. She’s not a stranger. She’s a neighbor.”
Jordan peered at Abby from the safety of the far side of his brother. “If she’s not a stranger, then what’s her name?”
“My name’s Mrs. Patterson,” Abby answered, delighted at thechild’s logic. “Your mother gave you good advice about not talking to strangers.”
“Told you.”
“Shut up, Jordan. Go build a castle or something.”
“Come with me.” He tugged on Walker’s
“Mightier than the thunder of the great waters, mightier than the breakers of the sea—the L ORD on high is mighty
.”
Remind me over and over of that truth from Your Word, Lord. Remind me!
The soft grains of dry sand gave way to the packed sand that the tides kissed daily. The walking immediately eased, and she put her cane down. She stood at the very edge of the water, watching the waves throw themselves at the shore, their energy driving them forward until there was nothing left but the tiny wavelets that licked the tip of her shoe.
But there were always more waves and then more still. They never gave up. Their strength was beyond comprehending, their quest to eat the shore unremitting. And they were winning. Ask anyone who knew anything about the ocean. If it weren’t for the unceasing efforts of man as he pumped sand from the ocean floor onto the beaches to replace the sand eaten by the relentless tides and the ferocious storms, barrier islands like Seaside would gradually diminish until nothing was left.
She closed her eyes for a minute, breathing deeply, savoring the sea air, feeling her spirit revive. The Lord was mightier than both the sea and the men who tried to circumvent it. Little girls got hurt, sometimes little girls even died, but God was mightier than any and all difficulties.
She had to believe that, or there was nothing.
She turned to walk along the water’s edge only to have her solitude broken by a pair of little boys who ran, shrieking for joy, across the beach and up to the edge of the water. The smaller one, a little tyke of four or five, was so excited to be on the beach that he ran in circles, waving his arms and yelling for the sheer bliss of it. His older brother looked at Abby.
“We just got here,” he explained. “We’re staying for the whole summer.” He pronounced
whole summer
with an emphasis that Abby understood completely.
“Me too.” She smiled. “Sounds like forever, doesn’t it?”
He nodded. “We never stayed that long before.”
“Me neither.”
“Just a week, you know?”
She nodded. “Two weeks tops.”
“But Dad got rich. Now we can stay and stay and stay.”
“Sounds wonderful to me.”
“Is your dad rich too?”
Understanding that he meant her husband, not her father, she shook her head. “I don’t have a husband anymore.”
He nodded. “Neither does my mom.” His young face looked sad for an instant, then brightened. “But I still got a dad.”
“I’m glad.” Divorce, Abby thought, fascinated by this little fount of information.
“Me too,” he said, his floppy brown bangs hanging over his eyebrows. “Do you live near here?”
“Right up there.” Abby pointed.
“That’s where we live too,” the boy said excitedly. “We live in the white one with all the glass.”
Abby nodded. She’d admired the remodeled house next door to Marsh’s with its wide decks and modern windows. “I live on the second floor of the house to the right of yours, the one with the awning.”
The boy squinted. “The old green-and-white house?”
She smiled. “The old green-and-white house.”
The little guy came to stand by his brother. Sand covered his dimpled knees and a streak of grains ran down his left cheek. He pulled on his brother’s shirt.
“Walker, we’re not supposed to talk to strangers,” he stage-whispered.
Walker looked down at him, condescension dripping. “Come on, Jordan. She’s not a stranger. She’s a neighbor.”
Jordan peered at Abby from the safety of the far side of his brother. “If she’s not a stranger, then what’s her name?”
“My name’s Mrs. Patterson,” Abby answered, delighted at thechild’s logic. “Your mother gave you good advice about not talking to strangers.”
“Told you.”
“Shut up, Jordan. Go build a castle or something.”
“Come with me.” He tugged on Walker’s
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