My feet were burning. And so were theirs. My two year old son was trying to be strong but his armor was beginning to break (or perhaps the blisters were starting to form). In a faint voice I could hear him calling for Da-da, but I was determined to find relief on the boardwalk. I would loved to have helped him out, but I was pretty well maxed out with all the equipment stuffed under each arm. I believe every finger on my right hand had become a hook of some kind to hang lawn chairs, umbrellas, and flip flops on. I also had a back pack loaded with food rations and hydration for four, sun protection and wet towels for same. Did I mention my feet were burning? For good measure, I had another bag draped over my shoulder. I’m not sure what was in it, probably some sort of one-of-a-kind shell my daughter couldn’t live without.
I understood at that moment, those who say they love going to the beach, they just don’t care for the sand much. As I was toting my house back from the edge of the water through loose sand to the car I didn’t like the sand very much either.
But you know what I did like...much? I liked...much... being with my kids. I liked building the big ditch in the sand and filling it with ocean water. And I liked boogie boarding with my daughters. And I liked watching my son chase sea gulls, because he wanted to see what they felt like. I liked sharing a bag of chips on the way home and seeing the glow of a fun day on their faces.
“Father, thank you for moments of fun with people we love. Thank you for the glow that surrounds us when we spend a day with the Son. We like that...much, and we know that you do too. In Jesus name, Amen.”