Maine, where I sit and write today, is a sacred spot for my family. Our clan travels to a small coastal town here most every summer, so blueberries and buoys and all of this state’s many blessings stream through our blood – or at least we’d like to think so.
This year has been an incredible treat in that our entire immediate family planned their vacations to be here at the same time for the first time in ages.
Two teensy log cabins filled with twelve Briggs. Plus three guests, to boot! Good times.
Yesterday we were gifted with one of those can’t-soak-enough-of-this-in days with sparkling sapphire waters, refreshing whisps of cool wind, and sunrays slipping in and out from behind happy white fluffs all afternoon. One of those days when you can’t help but respond with awe.
My family was relaxing on the beach, when my eldest brother convinced me and my other older bro to come hike a nearby trail that outlines a rounded peninsula. This particular footpath, which serves as a boundary between densely forested land and a bouldery beach with the ocean beyond, is replete with roots and rocks; every step demands careful concentration. Yet as I walked slowly, the “texting while driving” temptation arose and I pulled out my iPhone, unable to pass up such a heart-touching photo opportunity (see above).
You see, as my two older brothers led the way, I remembered how my sandaled size 8 soles had walked this same path innumerable times as a little child. My last loop ‘round had been many moons before, when my feeties were surely much, much smaller. As I took steps forward with the pines on my left and the waves on my right, I reflected back…
On my first trip into those woods, which was probably made upon my father’s back, I had no capacity to even begin to imagine the number of times I’d return to the very same spot in the future. Even after multiple annual treks over the increasingly familiar terrain, I still never had been able to envision myself as I existed yesterday – an adult, following behind my two older adult brothers, heading to jump off rocky cliffs into the icy waters below.
Being back in that place alongside my both of my brothers for the first time in perhaps 20 years felt monumental. All that has happened in the past two decades! All the highs and lows our feet have tread. All the stubbed toes and tender blisters we each have struggled through. All the growing, strengthening, and softening that has happened since our last time together on the trail.
And yet, there we were yesterday, making another loop as if not a minute had passed and not a detail had changed. What a profound feeling.
God winked at me while I walked, reminding me how humongous he is, and how time is an unfathomable concept much too deep for my little brain to grasp. Thankfully my eyes were open enough to catch his playful wink. And with a smile, I gave him one right back.
But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. (2 Peter 3:8)
Have you been tickled by time lately?