When I looked out the window this morning, I gasped. I have watched Nahant transition from green to red to bare and now to purest white. And I am no less entranced by this place than when it was bursting with color. Yes, the hydrangeas are withered on their stems and the boats have been pulled from the water, but light is still spilling from the sky, the gulls have not ceased to cry, and the ocean—the ocean is as formidable as it ever was.
I walked down to the beach (scarf around my neck, mittens on my hands) and stood still between the frozen land and that great moving of water. It is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Familiar words, yes? I love God like I love the ocean—because He too never changes. Even when our hearts are frozen, He is still moving, and moving powerfully.
Every now and then, I pause, and I think, “I did it. I actually came back.” Nahant has blessed me deeply by its unwavering beauty; my hostess and her three daughters by their fierce joy and hands-on love. In leaving, I know I will grieve a little, as if I am leaving home a second time. Something in me is tempted to fear that once this beautiful chapter in my life is over, I will find myself floating aimlessly, disoriented, abandoned to find my own way. But then I stand still, and I remember that my God never changes, that I can trust Him, He who will continue to be like the formidable ocean until the end of time—through every chapter in my life.
