The whole Earth is full of His Glory

It is Saturday morning, and I sit on the sundeck over the water with a mug of Earl Grey tea in one hand, a pen and paper in the other, and watch storm clouds roll past over the ocean. Among their turbulent, dark edges, I spot the unmistakable shape of a waterspout starting to form!! This is something I have been dreaming about seeing (literally) for as long as I can remember. I share the moment with a timely friend who has joined me just then.

Another one forms, and dissipates; the grey mass of clouds swallowing it up before it reaches the sea. Even though I have had nightmares in my childhood about tornadoes and the devastating effects it can leave in its wake – cold and uncaring – I am not afraid. I feel the power of it all – perhaps the beginning of static electricity – and my heart beats faster as I am caught up in the moment, the clouds and the sea growing darker.

The mountains across the straight have also been enveloped in the storm clouds, now a solid wall of grey. Time seems to slow down as I become aware of all my senses: the salty breeze caressing my hair, small waves lapping against the sandy shore, larger waves rolling and breaking across the reef past the cape. Birds. I count three different songs, but it is not an unpleasant chorus, rather a harmonious symphony. Above me, the sun is still shining, peaking through the rolling clouds. It reflects pure white lines dancing along the bottom of the shoreline, and sparkling crystals glitter on the uneven surface of the deep: turquoise and green and navy blue and gray.

A cool wind picks up and I watch as another spout forms, reaching down its thin grey fingers, hungry for the Earth, but the mother cloud above it is hungrier and devours it again and the cloud becomes smooth.

Always changing: The wind creates shapes in the clouds, some breaking off from their parent cloud, some rejoining, like the Prodigal Son. I see a seahorse, the boot of Italy, and then the rain comes, hard and fast and loud.

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What is created is always changing, a delicate balance that we are blessed to be stewards of and manage, take care of, subdue, fill, and rule. And yet, this: The Creator is always the same, unchanging: forever. Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever. A solid rock to build a life upon in this rushing world. He is foundational, strong, and true.

I am thankful for the blessing and excitement of it all. To be able to feel. To be aware. To make. To create. To reflect. To love.

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And this a chorus for today:

Holy, holy, holy is the Lord, God Almighty! The whole Earth is full of His Glory.

Psalm 104, The Bible

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