Coastal meditations.

How’s that for a hippie title?

We’ve wanted to go the beach all summer, but I was too sick.

Now that I’m not quite as sick anymore, Eric decided to surprise me last weekend with a quick getaway to Pacific City, Oregon. We stayed at an awesome bed and breakfast that was right up our alley — as the website says, “No lace, no doilies!”

It happened to be the weekend a big surf competition was in town, and a parasailing contest of sorts was also going on. We decided to steer clear of the madness for dinner time and, at the recommendation of our gracious host, holed up in a dive bar for some fresh-caught fish and chips and razor clams. Afterward, me made the mile-long trek over to the Pelican Brewery. This mile should have taken fifteen minutes to walk on sand, but instead it took forever. Why? Well…

Don’t mind the grainy iPhone-at-night shots, the all-portrait orientation and the fact that three of these photos have almost exactly the same composition.

I sure don’t.

ALL I could think was —

… Who shut in the sea with doors
when it burst out from the womb,
when I made clouds its garment
and thick darkness its swaddling band,
and prescribed limits for it
and set bars and doors,
and said, ‘Thus far shall you come, and no farther,
and here shall your proud waves be stayed’?

Thank you, Jesus, for this Oregon part of the incredibly amazing ocean you thought up. It was a great idea.