The Sun Always Rises

I'm not really a morning person {just ask my coworkers}, but I want to see the sun rise over the ocean. 


As many times as I’ve been to the beach, I’ve never gotten up early enough to actually see dawn crack the sky. 

I'm sure it must be beautiful to watch the sun shimmer up over the water, turning the sky from gray to all the glorious colors of sunrise. 

So I decided I wanted to watch the transformation in the sky, up-close and in-person.

Even if it meant heading out before I had my first cup of coffee.

I was spending the weekend staying at a beach condo with my sister and her family so I tried to talk my ten-year-old niece into joining me on this ambitious idea to witness the dawn’s early light.

At first she said, yes let’s do it! 

I imagine it will be a sweet memory for us to share as years from now we look back fondly on the time we both braved daybreak.

Then as I set my phone’s alarm for the early morning wake-up call, she says she's having second thoughts. She says she doesn’t really like to get up early either {like her auntie}, so why can't we just stand out on the condo’s terrace and watch it from here?

I say I don’t think it's quite the same as being oceanside but I tell her let's see how we feel about it in the morning.

When the alarm goes off my niece jumps up to look out the window. 

"It’s foggy and I can't see the sun," she whispers as she pulls back the curtains. 

“Besides, it’s already light. I think we missed it. The sun already riz.”

She hops back in bed.

Riz? Rose? Has risen? 

I look out and yes, faulty grammar aside, she is right about one thing. It is most definitely completely cloudy. 

Since I'm already up, I decide to walk down to the beach anyway. Forgoing coffee, I slip out the front door, cross the golf course and head down the wooden walkway. 

As I reach the ocean, the water and sky blend into a single gray horizon. 

There's no kaleidoscope of color, no ray of light shimmering on the water. I have to admit there's nothing spectacular here. 

I think my niece was smart to stay in bed.

But I figure I should take a morning walk, since I made the close-to-dawn effort.

It might be past sunrise, yet there's no sign of the sun. But just because I can’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not there. 

 

Is it ingrained in us to spend time looking for things that aren’t really missing? What if what we're looking for isn't gone but just hidden? Covered up for a while. Unseen to us now and invisible for a moment, a day, a month, or a season.

Maybe those are the times God invites us to search for his truth and enlightenment to dawn in our lives. Maybe that's when he reveals deep and hidden things {Dan. 2:22} and the light that dwells with him illuminates our journey. 

As reluctant as I am to say it since I love sunny days as much as anyone, we need the clouds and the dark and fog to see our way through and across and forward. 

How else would we see how far we've come when the clouds part and anticipate all that's before us as the bright sky opens above us?

At the end of my walk on the beach, sure enough the gray skies clear into blazing blue, bathing the beach in brilliant sunshine. 

I turn around to head back to the condo. Except now I see that the rows of condos look rather alike and the walkways from the beach aren’t all that noticeable. 

I realize I didn't bring a bag or towel with me to mark the spot and find my way back. 
 

{If only I had some coffee now.}

I have my phone but what will Siri tell me? Turn left at the third sand dune up ahead or pass the twenty-fifth clump of sea oats?

I watch a woman ahead of me walk down a set of steps that flicker a sense of recognition in me but I pass her by since it seems too soon to turn for my condo. 

Now I'm getting hot. And sweaty. When I fail to find another entrance from the beach, I turn around and figure it must have been the gray steps I'd passed by. 

Yes, of course that was where I started.

I found it. 

The way back and the way forward for the season ahead. 

The sun is now shining.

There are umbrellas and chairs saving my place at the beach, and rockers waiting poolside for sunset. 

Hammocks to swing on and a crackling beach bonfire for roasting marshmallows at twilight.

A spicy low-country shrimp boil with crumbly corn muffins, and butter dripping down my chin from sweet corn on the cob.

Summer's here.

And just when you think you've seen it all, there's room for the unexpected when you're staying at the beach. 

Like a wonderful {and a little wacky} wall of homemade donuts to go with my morning mug of coffee.

Who says there's nothing new under the sun?

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A little note on the photos: they were all taken at Amelia Island, Florida, at the Omni Resort.

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And if you prefer tea instead of coffee, come join me over at Culture with Travel where I'm sharing about my visit to a British tea room in Rome at the foot of the Spanish Steps. Click here since it just might be your cup of tea! 

I'm joining my blogging friends at Holley Gerth's place: Coffee for your Heart.