It’s been cold for several weeks here on the central east coast of Florida with only an occasional day in the lower 70s. That gets our hopes up and when that doesn’t last we feel cheated. Every time I live in Florida, during most of the year I forget that it gets cold in January. Most of the time even when it is cold it is bright and sunshiny, so it is easy to be forgiving about the cold. When I left Washington, DC this last time, I also gave away most of my winter clothes, forgetting that some of them would still come in handy for a few weeks in December and January.

I kept my winter sports coat, though, fiber-filled and red with a hood. Yesterday I really needed it when I decided to brave a walk on the beach. Because of the cold I argued with myself all day about whether to go for a walk or not, but finally the sunset convinced me since it was one of those full-sky glorious displays that declare the glory of God so beautifully. I love to walk on the shore with magenta clouds like furrows overhead and that purplish glow on the eastern horizon.

The ocean was petulantly quiet and a deep electric blue changing to steel grey as the edge of the waves turned to bright white froth. The only waves were right at the shore line, gently swelling and swashing. I love the sound of the ocean, especially because it is so different depending on the surge of the surf. Often I can hear it when I leave my apartment but last night I couldn’t hear it until I approached the dune crossover, so I knew it was calm. The wind was gentle and from the west instead of the north which was one of the reasons I took a chance on the walk even though it was cold.

The sunset was so beautiful and the light over the ocean caught a large white passenger ship on the horizon in such a way that it shone and shimmered as it headed south. I often see the same ship at sunset because it is one of those gambling boats that leaves Port Canaveral on a regular schedule. The setting sun made the ship shine in a way that made it look larger than usual, out of proportion somehow.

On the way to the beach I had told myself that if it seemed to cold I would not walk, but just watch the ocean from the crossover for a bit. After I got there, though, I couldn’t resist the lure of the surf and headed down the steep crossover steps and then south down the beach. I have a good idea of distances I have marked out, so I made my goal the dune crossover about a half a mile down the beach. It was cold enough that I almost regretted that about ¾ of the way there, but I don’t usually change my goals, so I ran some of the distance to keep warm and get back to my apartment sooner.

As I walked north I was lost in a brown study, not really aware of anything since there was very little to see. Only a few shore birds were busy at the edge of the water. It was too cold for the ghost crabs to venture out, and I had not noticed any activity of fish or fowl over the expanse of seawater. The gambling boat was behind me on the horizon by the time I made my way back toward home, but all of a sudden I stopped dead in my tracks.

I was shocked to see a big orange disk rising out of the sea. It took me a moment to figure out that it was the moon because it mimicked the sun so well, even occupying the place the sun rose the last time I saw it. The verse from Genesis about the greater light for the day and the lesser light for the night came to my mind. Out of my absent-minded reverie I had to remind myself that it was indeed evening and not dawn - a very strange disorientation. As I stood there transfixed, the earth’s turning did its work, though it seemed that the huge orange disk that had a bright red lower crescent pulled itself out of the water. There was that period of time when the mirror of the sea reflected the moon’s bright colors and right before it pulled itself all the way out of the drink, it looked like a stubby goblet with a stem and stand. Bands of clouds then took the moon up and swathed it mysteriously. By that time I had been standing still for several minutes and I was pretty cold, so I hurried home, looking back at the moon again only when I reached the top of the crossover.

On the way back to my apartment another Bible verse came to mind – “The sun shall not strike thee by day nor the moon by night . . .” from Psalm 91. The next lines are “God will give His angels charge over you to guard you in all your ways. On their hands they will bear you up so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.” The feeling of disorientation passed and as I took off my coat in my cozy warm apartment I felt cozy and warm inside, too, with the remembrance of God’s faithful promises of love and protection. God is so good!

Thank You, Lord for the sun and the moon, for beautiful sunsets and the reliable dawn. Thank You for the beauty in nature and the gift of being able to know You and relate to You. Alleluia! Amen.

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