The no longer sad little holy dock

It good be a good economic sign or a bad one.

I don't know yet.

But the sad little holy dock is now a gated community for no one.

Goddess was taking me on a stroll down our street to the marsh where we take a left. Half-a-block later we turn to the left again and there is the dock jutting out into the marsh.

It is not a fine dock by any stretch of the imagination with its warped boards that have pulled the nails out of the beams. The "T" at the end is shaky and sits low in the marsh. The planks are weatherworn and old. There is nothing ornate about it other than seagull droppings. You feel the whole thing will topple over at any moment.

There was a while when it suited me perfectly! Goddess and I would meander aimlessly around the island and end up sitting on the sad little holy dock for hours on end. We were lost in the marsh.

But things changed.

Sarah and I began taking walks and held hands on the sad little holy dock. Sitting with our feet dangling above the green grass and black mud, we shared dreams, kisses and more.

Now when Sarah's girls and I walk the dogs they love to sit on the dock and tell me about school, boyfriends, problems or what's for dinner.

The truth is I no longer visit the dock like I used to because I'm in a hurry to get back home.

Yet it's with interest that I see the gate with a chain blocking entrance to the sad little holy dock.

Personally, I hope Shirley is turning it into a tourist attraction!

God knows I've written enough about it! People want to see it when they visit us.

"Is that the sad little holy dock," they ask?

"Well it was," I answer, "but its not anymore."

It's just an old relic of a past that's no more.
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Today

The beach is packed with people watching the sun rise.

They sit in chairs intensely focused on the horizon, wade in the surf, or hide their faces behind cameras clicking away.

Couples hold hands, laughing while strolling in the sand.

Kids build castles and chase crabs.

Teenagers profess their love by writing their names in the sand.

I'm darting through them on my bicycle, gliding beside the ocean's edge, marveling at the low line of purple clouds the sun is hiding behind.

A slight sea breeze blows my hair back and the smell of salt hangs heavy in the air.

I'm zipping pass the slow motion in a universe of my own.

At 13th Street I turn into the soft sand and the bike immediately sinks to a stop. Climbing off I push it to the crosswalk over the sand dunes and sea oats. On top I put the kick stand down and sit on the railing, letting my flip flops drop to the wooden planks.

A little girl with a bag of potato chips giggles as she throws them one by one into the air so seagulls pluck them from the sky squawking in delight.

Cargo ships are coming and going in the channel.

The sun bursts above the clouds turning them the colors of the rainbow and everyone on the beach stops to admire God's finger painting. I hear them hold their collective breaths.

A smacking sound draws my attention to the huge sand dunes and I see a couple laying together passionately kissing.

Shrugging my shoulders, I smile and jump back on my bicycle and coast down the crosswalk for the ride home.

The streets are intensely quiet. Pastel colored houses sit still. Palm trees sway slightly in the breeze. The pungent aroma of the marsh emerges overwhelming my senses.

This is the day the Lord has made and She's done a damn fine job!

I'm going to wait until Sarah wakes up then we're going to rejoice and be glad in it.
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One Hell of a life!

Sweat pours from my body as I run in the early morning humidity. An ocean breeze blows from the south but I know when I make the turn on the beach it will be at my back and it will be stifling until I turn again to make my way home.

Topping the 19th Street crosswalk, I look over tall while sand dunes crowned with green sea oats to a high tide with rolling white waves. The sun is mercifully blotted out by a summer squall over the ocean. I see purple rain falling heavily into greenish grey sea. Crossing the dunes, I turn left and run along side the water towards the main beach.

Jimmy Buffett is telling to "take another road to another place."

I feel good.

Yesterday Sarah and I took the girls to the beach and made a day of it. Last night we went to the "Full Moon" party at Marlin Monroe's where we got married.  We celebrate our anniversary each month rather than annually.

The Carnival of friends were all present bringing laughter with them. Sarah and I were wished "Happy Anniversary" repeatedly though we married in March.

Afterwards, we sat in a swing at the end of our street watching the magnificence of the moon rise over the ocean. Once home, the girls thankfully went to bed but Sarah and I remained awake to celebrate in a different way.

Such days make it hard to not be grateful for everything!

My red running shorts are completely soaked as I pass under the Pier. Looking ahead, I notice walkers have stopped walking and runners stand with a hand over the eyes, staring behind me.

Turning my head I look backwards and witness the most incredible water spout I've ever seen! A long dark funnel dips from the purple clouds touching the ocean. Water explodes upward, spectacularly splashing 30 feet high in every direction. It is holy!

The wind suddenly comes from every direction. The temperature drops significantly in mere seconds. Rain is immediate as the squall hits the shore and there is nothing to do but keep running, rain pelting me as though it's BB's fired from a relentless machine gun. I have to keep my head lowered and watch one foot repeatedly step in front of the other.

The rain hurts too much so I turn and splash down 7th Street, making my way home. Thunder roars. Lightening cracks as I run down the puddle that is now 2nd Avenue. Dan Fogleberg is telling me about Heartbreak Hotels. I wonder how my I-Pod and the rain.

Suddenly the sun blazes through the trees still dripping with rain. The temperature shoots upward. Sweat again pours from my body. My I-Pod keeps playing even when I hit pause.

On 12th Street, I take a right to see a brilliant broad rainbow hanging over our house. Behind it, purple rain falls on the marsh. Lightening flashes over Wilmington. I am bathed in sunshine watching darkness retreat and it's hard to not take it as a message from God. I had it good. Things got bad. It's good again. Whatever darkness is left is left in my life is moving away quickly.

"Thank you God," I say out loud as I turn towards our yard. "That was one hell of a run!"

"I'm living one hell of a life!"

A Godly Use of One Finger

I was multitasking ... watching Sarah's girls splashing in the ocean, having a conversation with three different people at the same time on my I-phone and working on my tan. There was lots of space around me at low tide though lots of people were strolling in the surf, throwing a Frisbee or sipping beers while they talked.

The phone conversation was pretty intense as I read texts that were flying through cyberspace.

In the distance, a man stood from his beach chair and finished off the cheeseburger he'd bought on the Pier and threw the Styrofoam container in the air. The ocean breeze blew my way and it eventually landed in the ocean where the waves ended their journey on the shore.

He just watched it and shrugged his shoulders before resuming his conversation with his friends.

I couldn't believe it!

Jumping out of my beach chair, I stormed to the surf and retrieved his trash. As I stood, he was watching me. I held up my hands as to ask, "What the hell?"

Laughing, he shrugged his shoulders with a smirk on his face.

So I did what any good Christian who loves the beach and others would do ... I flipped him off and said, "Asshole."

He sat back in his chair not giving a damn.

BUT ... I sure felt better.

It's amazing to me what people are capable of doing to the earth and to themselves. Living at the beach, I care deeply about the environment because daily I watch how people are so cruel to it. Mornings I ride my bicycle down Tybee Island's main drag as City workers blow mountains of cigarette butts, plastic cups, articles of clothing and paper wrappers on to the street. At the same time a platoon of workers are walking the beach picking up the same items that were left behind by yesterday's crowd.

He could be the world's greatest brain surgeon for all I know. Perhaps a generous philanthropist ... minister of a great church ... fabulously rich investor ... or a redneck from the country! He could be all of those things.

What he is at this particular moment is an asshole.

Somebody needed to tell him and I'm glad it was me.

While it was a physical act on my part, it was also an emotional one. I shared my feelings, letting them out rather than stuffing them inside of me which is extremely unhealthy. It's better to let it out.

I figure that God placed me there watching Sarah's girls play in the ocean, texting with friends in real time cyberspace, getting darker by the hour for that moment.

"Asshole," I said again, sitting down with his trash.

Then I returned to the conversation with my friends.