Beautiful One, my soul must sing

Today I left home seeking a peaceful place to study for tomorrow's final exams and ended up at the ocean. My favorite stretch of beach in NH is not sand at all, but rather a length of winding coastal rocks rising up to a banking where the mainland levels. Route 1-A follows the shoreline all the way up through to Maine; between the pavement of the road and the drop-off to the rocks is a grassy flatland with a walkway and wildflowers, and periodically a bench or stone arrangement or group of bushes... landscaped, but naturally so.

On one of these grassy areas I spread my blanket and then my books... and then myself. :) I never realized how similar the gull's cry is to the wolf's lone howl, or how the clouds can rise on the horizon-line and appear as ship's sails, coming home.

I had not realized how quiet the writer's voice in me has been of late;

how needed she to be loosed and let free.

Beauty: therein lies such power for healing and renewal. A few simple hours of gazing upon the waters of my God... hearing His rhythm, feeling His breeze, seeing His artistry, even the scents of salt and grass and greenery... the warmth of His sun, and the relationships of His creatures... to be in the midst of His handiwork, in the presence of Himself, with His Word at my fingertips, and all simotaneously in the palm of His hand...

my soul found its resting place; my voice, its freedom.