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When I lived in San Diego, every day was a beach day. My German shepherd, Giada, would run in the waves and my golden retriever, Apple, would chase tennis balls. Even the ones tossed for other dogs. It’s how I made friends on the beach. The water was so spectacular and healing and I would sit and watch the waves for hours. We’d stay as long as possible before I’d load up the dogs and, unintentionally, gallons upon gallons of sand back into my silver Eclipse and head home. I’d practically been vacuuming for an entire year but still, it was there. Even seven years after I moved I still had pieces of San Diego sand following me around. The sand is untamable. Like all the people who come into our lives, some sand is silky, warm and welcoming. Other sand is more like worn gravel, you bear the dust and annoyance but only because you get to see the ocean. And other times sand is more like sharp rocks, so painful and sometimes dangerous, you’ll need a barrier to walk it safely.

If sand is people, then God must be the ocean. Sometimes graceful. Sometimes fierce. Sand attaches to us like tree sap, and yet the Ocean, big and powerful washes it all away. For a second. But then there’s more sand. And then a wave. More sand. Another wave. It’s a forever dance of tenderness, love and renewal. The Ocean’s current never stops guiding the sand, molding and sculpting it into priceless seascapes. Yet, the truth of the matter is, you can’t reach the Ocean without out walking through sand. Sand is the gateway to feel, see and touch the All Powerful Ocean.