Between the tufts of beach shrubbery, our campsite took place. Three tents, all a hundred yards from the beach. The narrow path to the beach winds up the dunes. It is overrun with burs and vegetation so I wear sandals to the halfway point. Here the pure sand takes over and I ditch my sandals. I climb quickly, run the last few steepest feet until I crest the dunes. Heart rate elevated, I view the vista still somewhat obscured by an island of a dune right in front of me, before plunging and running down the steep embankment.
The sun rests upon the teeming water, breaking and shimmering in a million fragmented crystal-like glimpses of eternity. A slightly cool breeze vaguely reminds me of impending autumn, but the sun and the water still cling to long summer days. Again, I stare transfixed at the sun upon the water. Something heavy and eternal yet free and weightless wells up in my soul. I wade into the warm water and dive under the first sizeable wave to crash before me. Now my body adjusts to the water and the wind becomes colder. I ride a wave in and pop back up. I dive again and come up, deciding to swim out to further depths. Arm over arm, I quickly move through the rising and falling surface that the Son of Man walked upon. I turn to my right and the sun is making its descent to the west side of the island. But it is all one now. The sun gives forth warmth and light and the light dances upon the warm water, always in movement and change but always in perfect restful harmony. This scene I live in and am but a small part of. But something massive is shifting in my soul, something fixed and abiding is descending upon it. I begin to see but a small glimpse of the Glory of God. This scene plays even now over and over in my head, yet is perpetually novel. There is no fixed meaning attached to it, no words will capture its essence. No, it lives in me as He lives in me. That eternal, heavy golden light to my right as I swim through its rays reflects the living light of the world. Always beyond comprehension, always transcending the present, God parts the veil ever so briefly, and this is seared as a living memory nourished by that eternal spring welling up in my soul.