I have stood on the crest of the bluffs north of
Bodega Bay and gazed at the expanse of the

Pacific Ocean.

From high on the bluff, you can see the waves
crashing on the rocks below, and the endlessness
of the water that meets the horizon.
 

The prospective is different on the sandy beaches
below the bluff. There is no distance to the horizon,
and the waves roll in relentlessly to the shore,
sweeping all within it's wake:



~ Press on ~


How great the hands that bore
This vast horizon of endless blues;
Black where it meets the cloudless sky;
Gently fading as it comes nearer

Until shades of green overtake
The blues and lead to white soapy
Froth, which freezes the toes of those
Who frolic on the shore, minuscule
Against the greatness of the sea.



Then ~ once the steep bluff descended,
Your toes finally touch that sand,
And sans shoes, you make your way
To water's edge, and feel the coolness

Between your toes and the breeze
Blows freely through the tresses of your hair,
And the sun is warm while the breeze is cool,
And all these contradictions come to bare.



The crashing waves roll on relentlessly,
And the undertow could pull you safely
From the shore and send you tumbling
Helter-skelter through life's terrible

Choices; ~ Yet, you endure. For your
Great hope is built on nothing less than
The love that has been
Offered to you ~


So you press on, resolving to always put
Your Savior first and try to strive to be
All that He has seen in you.

For you know that the feelings on the shore,
And the feelings on the bluff
Are different.

And yet, somehow, they meet and become
The total of that creation. And you are a
Part of that great creation. And so, as a
Part of the whole, you are free to press on.

Press on toward the mark.
 

Press on toward the lord.
 

Press on toward the hope.
 

Press on toward the love.

Press on.


Karen
May 5, 2004 ©