There is a pole about 10 feet off the end of our pier that attracts pelicans. It seems to be a popular resting spot for them as they fly along the coast, fishing and doing whatever it is that pelicans do.
I understand the attraction. I, too, often post myself at the end of the pier. It’s a quiet place, even with the occasional loud sea gull. There’s something about the sun warming me and the wind blowing across the water, cooling me, that calls me there time and again.
I often go out there to write or pray, and I usually accomplish what I set out to do, albeit with a million distractions.
The mullet jump out of the water, fleeing from predators. It reminds me of skipping stones when I was a kid. One. Two. Three! Four!! I always hope they manage to escape.
Sometimes I’ll bait the crab trap in the shade under the pier. I always release the crabs, delighting in their mad dash out of the trap and into the water.
The chairs were moved into the garage during the last hurricane, so these days I sit on the end with my feet dangling just over the water. I’m more aware of the boards from that angle. The wood grain fascinates me with the swirls and color variations. The starkness of the dark knots contrast with the sleek lines that swirl around them, adding beauty and continuity to the interruption. These imperfections, weathered and aged, remind me of my own imperfections and the swirling graces that turn the ugly into beauty.
I’m grateful for the pelicans, the mullet, the crabs, and the knots that keep me company and inspire me to stop and rest when I need it. To persevere when it’s important. To get myself out of a pickle when I need to.
And the reminder to ask for the grace to overcome my imperfections.
Beautiful!