We’re at the beach. Let’s go see the sunrise

I was asleep when a whisper cut through the darkness.

“Mom, I’m going to see the sunrise. Do you want to come?”

Truthfully, no. I just wanted to sleep. But, of course, I wanted to come.

“Yes,” I said. “I’ll be ready in five minutes.”

I dressed quickly, grabbed my keys and phone, and we headed out the door. From the first days of our beach vacation, our son had been talking about going to see the sun rise, but I had figured he wouldn’t actually wake up in time to go. Teens aren’t typically early risers.

Still, here we were, walking together in the darkness of the early morning, seeking the extraordinary, ready for wonder.

The world was quiet and still as we crossed the roads together. We were following the sidewalk toward the beach when we saw an older man closing the back of his pickup truck. We greeting each other, as you do, especially when you feel like the only people in the world who are awake.

We walked together for a few steps, and as we parted ways on the beach, the man showered us with words of beauty and faith and grace. He wished us a beautiful day, expressed gratitude for the day that lay ahead, and called for an abundance of blessings on us. I wish I remembered all his words. All I recall is an outpowering of warmth.

When he finished, I thanked him and told him we would remember him in our prayers. Then we parted ways. I was struck by the fact that thanks to that encounter, we had already been washed with God’s beauty and grace, walking in the stillness of a beach, even before dawn.

Maybe that stranger was a minister. Maybe he was an angel. Maybe he was just a man of faith who loves to watch the sun rise. All I knew was that he helped remind us what a gift the day was, even before it began.

So, with a full heart already, I walked onto the beach. The sand was cool on our feet. The waves were crashing gently along the shoreline, birds were hovering above, and the clouds were moving slowly across the sky.

There were other people too—people who brought chairs or towels and coffee, people who were fishing, people who were there to soak in the first notes of the symphony that would be the day ahead. I found myself wondering whether they come every day.

We hadn’t thought to bring anything to sit on, but it didn’t matter. The sun was ready to greet us, slipping up into the sky behind the clouds. Little by little, the sky grew brighter, and we watched together.

As the light started filling the sky, we noticed porpoises weaving through the water and foxes chasing one another through the dunes. The world was full of magic and wonder, and God—God was everywhere. And he was certainly with us on the beach, welcoming us into a new day, inviting us to see it for the gift it is.

What a beautiful reminder of God’s infinite power and creativity and love.

“The Lord has turned all our sunsets into sunrise,” St. Clement said.

And so today may we begin again, looking for light in the darkness, and embracing the morning with a sense of discovery, gratitude, and awe.

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