Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine... —Ephesians 3:20 (niv)
Strolling along the edge of Mother Ocean for hours at a time the last few days has refreshed yours truly as regards the Maker’s profligate generosity, new every morning indeed—not only excellent things to eat (and my enterprising children have harvested crabs, mussels, and perch from these waters for our meals, saving the old man some serious coin), but in gaping wonder at the incalculable numbers and forms of life: eagles the size of tents, sea lions the size of cars, inquisitive seals in the surf like wet-whiskered grandfathers, and then the herds of skittering small children loose on the beach, shrilling and thrilling; swallows and minks along the creek, beach roses and sea rocket in the dunes; and as many blackberries along the trail back to the cabin as a man can eat and carry home for pie in his now-permanently-purple baseball cap.
We take this for granted. You know we do. We stare at the immeasurable miracles of the Maker and we worry about the car. This is foolish.
When I feel especially foolish, I recruit a child and go down to the shore and count sand crabs at low tide. In one square yard of sand, we dig up more than a thousand, many smaller than a thumbnail, the manufacture and operation and spark of which are utterly beyond the ability of the greatest geniuses among us. We take this for granted. You know we do. I’m the chief fool in this vein. Except sometimes, in summer, when I’m reminded, usually by a child; then we walk back to the cabin, picking berries, unabashed and thrilled.
