Receiving His Gifts

I’m currently sitting in a rented beach house in Avon, North Carolina–one of my favorite places in the world. And one of our favorite things to do while we’re on vacation here in the Outer Banks is to watch the sunrise.

Now, in September, this is no great feat. The sun rises at a civilized 6:30ish, so we have plenty of time to get up and enjoy it (my husband and I usually wake up at 5:30, do our morning prayers together, and then go about our day). As we settled in our beachy routine, we remembered that last year, though we were down here for two weeks, there wasn’t a single day where we had a “perfect” sunrise. By which we mean a clear horizon over the water, some scattered clouds to catch the light and be painted with that gorgeous sunrise rainbow. Each and every day, there was a big ol’ cloud bank on the horizon that obscured the sun.

On Monday this year, I looked out the big east-facing windows of the house, saw a big ol’ cloudbank dumping rain somewhere out at sea (though it was perfectly clear here), and sighed. Still, we climbed the weathered wooden stairs up to the rooftop deck to watch what we could see of the sunrise.

As I was sitting there in my newly-purchased beach chair, looking out at that single storm cloud marring my idea of a perfect morning and reflecting on last year, I found myself praying, Lord, please give us a few good sunrises this year.

And then I sensed the Lord giving me one of those smiling shakes of the head, like we give our kiddos when they’re cute but oh-so-off-base. And a new prayer filled my heart instead:

Lord, I will receive whatever you give me. Help me to do so with open hands and an open heart.

With that prayer on my lips, the morning suddenly looked different. Instead of a selfish outlook that was utterly ridiculous when I stopped to think about it–why would something as large as weather be changed for a fleeting moment of pleasure for me? Not to say the Lord never gives us those gifts, but it struck me as so selfish a request in that moment–my eyes were opened to what He had already given.

If I wanted painted clouds, I had only to look away from that single storm cloud and watch the ones skuttling to the south wash rose and gold. If I wanted drama, I need look no further than the fire-limned edges of that big raincloud. If I wanted a reminder of His goodness, I had only to listen to the sounds of the ocean and the wind and the birds.

One of the reasons I love the beach is because every time I walk outside, no matter where I look, I see the bigness of the world around me, and it reminds me of the eternal vastness of our God. I love the mountains I live in, the beauty they show, but you can’t ever see as much sky as you can down here, nor, for that matter, so much land; the horizon is never a distant thing, it’s just the next ridgeline. I love that…but I love this too. Because as I stand on the shore where the waves lap at my feet or on a deck where I can see for miles, I know that I am such a small part of this world–no more to history than a grain of sand. A drop of water. And yet, as important as every grain of sand, every drop of water, because the Creator crafted me just so, just as He did this landscape that fills my soul with contentment.

When David and I went for our first walk the other day, I kept just sucking in a long breath and letting it back out with a sigh of pure bliss. Life with all its irritations and challenges continues even on vacation–I got attacked (ha) by a cactus the very first time we walked from the house toward the beach, I’m recovering from some congestion we brought back with us from Memphis last week, my inbox is overflowing with tasks I need to take care of. But being here helps me put it all in perspective.

Being here helps me open my hands, open my heart, and turn my face up to Heaven. Being here helps me set aside my own desires and expectations and instead just receive. Receive whatever the Lord wants to give me.

There will be good. There will be bad. There will be victories. There will be defeat. There will smiles. There will be tears.

Because that, my friends, is life. There is suffering…and there is glory unlike anything we could imagine. We can get a glimpse of it in every sunrise…in every sunset. In every rainstorm…in every gust of wind. We can hear it in the song of the birds…and in our own hearts, when we quiet them enough to step back from ourselves, from our wants, from our desires, and listen instead for His whisper.

He has such wonderful gifts in store for us. Do we have the eyes to see them?