Toes in the Sand

I love the feel of sand under my bare feet, whether it is cool and damp, or warm and dry.
I also love the beaches of the Pacific Northwest. You can have Maui, Malibu, and Miami. Those have too many people for me. I like the solitude, being able to see and experience clear, empty stretches of beach, free of the clutter of too many sun seekers.
I enjoy the crisp winds we get here in the Pacific Northwest. They invigorate my soul. Bare feet. Wet sand. Glorious sun. And my hat flying free down the beach.


My favorite companion is by my side. “Shall we run,” I ask her. Up goes her foot, indicating she’s ready to race. Short bursts this way and that. My Tink and I are free spirits being carried across the sand by the gusts of wind. We are free.



I am re-energized by our little run on the beach, even though I am out of breath after only a few minutes. I can feel each icy inhalation reaching deep into my lungs, piercing each air sac like icicles falling from the sky and hitting my chest. In instances such as this, I know I am alive. This pain is a good pain. This experience, a good one.
This life, though full of pain, is a good one. This life is well worth living. And I choose to live my life free and inexpressibly happy. I count myself lucky to be given this opportunity, this life.
Thank you, Lord, for all of my life. All the good and all the bad. It is my life chosen for me by You, and I humbly thank You for every breath I am allowed to take. Amen.