Milestones

 

Milestones.

We took a day out to celebrate Don’s birthday. Parking at Stonehaven harbour, we hiked the mile on the coastal cliffs down to Dunnottar Castle. Sometimes the path was protected from the 50 mph gale-force winds by hillocks or humps of land. More frequently, though, we battled through the full force of the strong winds, either straining not to be lifted off the cliff from behind, or pushing into the headwinds, holding hands.

Sometimes the sun shone, sparkling on the white horses and crashing surf below. At other times, we watched as a wall of misty black sky swarmed across the sea, throwing snow and sleet and hail into the spring surf.

The rat-runs of neural pathways which have bedded into our brains during the pandemic’s lockdown were broken as our thoughts were drawn elsewhere. The bitter winds blew off the cobwebs of routine; it lifted thoughts into different paths, new realms.

Back in Stonehaven, we found a coffee shop serving take-away food and got a cup of rich French onion soup, which we ate sheltering in the car. Then we headed south to St Cyrus beach, a nature reserve we’d never visited, and explored the dunes awhile.

‘He has risen from the dead,’ the angel told the disciples, promising them that they would see him. We saw him in the wind and the waves, in the sun and the snow, in the eyes of each other.

Thank you, Lord, for the milestones which lift us from ordinary routine and give us space and a moment to consider, to breathe in your love, to just be.