Making His Presence Known

They come by the boatloads.  Everyday.  They purchase a ticket with high hopes of seeing striking aerial acrobatics by behemoths of the deep.  Following sonar equipment, these boatloads position themselves directly out my window, as they wait to catch a glimpse of a whale. Surveying the surface for a telltale spout, the lucky few spot additional evidence of these mythical giants, the gray hump of a back, or sometimes a tail.

While migratory seasons bring increased activity, we are privileged to have a pod that remains year-round in the cool, inviting waters off the Oregon Coast.  I'm not convinced that these whale watchers, for their ticket, really get any better show than I do; I, who am dry and warm and cozy behind expansive windows that yield an unparalleled view.  A telescopic lens doesn't hurt either.

In contemplating the big deep, which stretches endlessly past the visible horizon, which contains otherworldly creatures, which for centuries has issued its sirens' song to the adventurous bidding them to come, explore, and discover; I marvel at its power; I marvel at the gifts it generously gives;  I marvel at its beauty, which is ever changing and ever the same.

I marvel every time I am fortunate enough to spend some time at the beach.