Change

The seaside breeze was brisk, with a sharp March edge to it. We strode along purposefully following the tracks in the sand, then scrambling over lumps and bumps and mini sand dunes. The original Queen Mary stood across the water, majestic and proud but stripped now for decades of all power and movement. Stuck in her dock. A museum piece, showcase of past luxury.

We paused on the rocks when we reached the inlet, lost in our conversation. How many times Mhairi and I have walked together over this beach, laughing and crying, pouring out our hearts and our faith, confessing our fears and our sorrows. Precious times; a priceless love and friendship.

The cold Pacific waters lapped the rocks, familiar. And yet, not the same water that lapped the rocks a few months ago, when we last were here. Water that looks the same, but has moved with the tides and currents.

So are we. Looking the same but by the grace of God different, strengthened by his Spirit where we wobbled the most. Remembering the past gives hope for the future. God is good. He is in control. He restores the years the locust has eaten. He never leaves us nor forsakes us. As we step tentatively into the future, hands held in the divine grasp, we can step with confidence. Not in the world. Not in ourselves. In Him.