As a Franciscan, I am somewhat ashamed to admit that each year we rent a spectacular condo at the ocean. But I defy anyone to sit in the predawn darkness surrounding “my” chair and not feel God sitting in the chair next to me. And, as a Franciscan, I am supposed to see the Gospels all around. What better place?
Each morning, at first light, a flight of Pelicans drops over the roof of this building. I sit less than ten feet from their passing, and then as they glide in perfect beauty, Like Peter and the boat, they seem to remember they can’t really fly, and they plummet into the water, much as I envision Peter hitting the drink when he realized he couldn’t walk on water.
The last morning we were there, I arose even earlier than usual. As I settled myself to await the rising of the sun, three or four miles up the beach, a lone automobile drove up and down the beach, showing first his headlights and then his taillights. I thought about how that person, whatever his mission, had no idea that miles away he was being watched. How often do we pass unknowingly through someone else’s life, with no idea what effect we have on them? A smile, a kind word or conversely, a dismissal or an impatient moment all have effects. I have come to believe that in the end, those things matter. So, I said a silent prayer that my mystery person would have a safe day and would discover a moment of joy that day.
When the sun finally did appear, when the pelicans performed their morning ritual, when the outside world could no longer be ignored, I rose from my window chair for the last time this year and prepared for the return to home and all the joys that brings.