YOUR YARNS
[by Angela Robb]
It was dark when we arrived last night for our Christian Fellowship camp and we have plans. Plans for any early risers to explore the beach at 7:30am. Not that I’m expecting that many up early at a student camp, but some might be keen. And I have plans of my own. Plans to get up at 6am and enjoy some quiet time before the day begins. But as the roosters crow outside, I’m not sure how early it is...maybe 5am? From my cabin bunk, the security lights outside interrupt the darkness so no clues are there, either. I’m awake, but should I get up already? I decide to get dressed and head to the main hall where I can check the clock and wait until the others get up. But when I arrive there, the doors are locked. Well, I’m not about to go back to bed now that I’m ready for the day. And it’s too cold to sit still outside. I adjust my plans and decide to take a risk. 20
Following the sound of the surf, I strike out in the dark to find the beach alone. I climb over the gate and wander down the lamp lit road. A few lights from neighbouring houses show signs of human life. In the distance, a red glow suggests dawn is stirring. I trudge towards it, uncertain but curious. Solid pavement under gumboots softens to sand as I mount the dunes. At the crest I pause. The cold wind smells of salty sea. The darkness stretches wide ahead. Invisible waves surge in a steady roar. Crimson colour deep as blood splits ocean and sky. The faint thread traces the horizon, reaching long. I can’t help smiling at the glory, this breathtaking beauty here on the edge of the earth. The splendour of His majesty spills through and I drink it in. Does He who paints the sky do it just for fun? There’s hardly any audience to watch the heavens wordlessly announce His greatness. And I am only here to see because He interrupted my plans with locked doors.
