Construction

Today has been a bit different. I spent time with the sun and felt the sweet and scary pull of the ocean. I read some of my book. I burned my toes on the sun-scorched sand and quickly whisked my TOMS back on. Now I sit on the rocking chair of our rented beach house, watching the construction of another beach house across the way. While the sound of saw-meets-wood and the pounding of a hammer are anything but  sweet, peaceful music to my ears, it is neat to see what hands, tools and an architect’s mind can construct. 

It is as if a piece of land is the setting for an orchestra. Adding the supplies and the tools are just beginning. Intense and loud, there is this path to something beautiful. So, in trying to find today’s meaning in God’s beauty, I find that we’re all under construction. Sometimes loud, painfully loud, sometimes with parts cut and thrown away, we are being made into something – someone – unknowingly, untouchably beautiful. Our head architect is so much more than a visionary. 

As the sun takes its rest again, I will rest in admiring His way of construction.

This was an excerpt from my journal on my most recent vacation to North Carolina. Where it was just me, myself and the ocean life. And that one rocking chair.

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