So you've got your pool-sitters. They get out early, save lounge chairs for friends, establish themselves at the tables, nice people who are content to go no further than 100 feet from their rooms. And that's okay. Many are elderly and have earned their rest.
It's just not for me.
Then you've got the beach sitters. At the big hotels, you've got to get out early to save a spot under the grass umbrellas (the name of which I never came remember). One of the biggest hotels requires people to line up at 6 AM to receive a "flag". If they leave their beach chairs unattended for more than two hours, they will lose possession of their location.
My sister and her husband are too practical for all that. They buy beach chairs, go to the open-air beaches (where the waves are better) and happily share shade with everyone.
Steve and I...well, we're known for adventuring. Or, as my sisters used to put it, risking everyone's lives so we can inherit.
The most famous natural landmark in Aruba is the "natural bridge". (I'll post about that another time...the natural bridge is its own spiritual reminder of mortality.) The natural bridge is on the wild side of the island, requiring a ride over bumpy dusty roads. All the tour busses go there, unloading people into the parking lot. They take their pictures, buy expensive souvenirs, then get back on the bus.
We take a ride and I spot sand way beyond the natural bridge...and beyond any road...unless you're riding a 4-wheeler to go over volcanic rock.
So I say to Steve, "let's hike there."
Aruba isn't the best place for hiking. We're near the equator, and noontime sun is brutal, even for natives. However, the wind on the wild side of the island blows steadily off the water, with nothing to block it. There's the illusion of bearable, and sunscreen does the rest.
So we hike. And it's not bad, and not long. I trip once, fall and don't break anything, thank you, Jesus. We come to a private beach, water too violent to enter but gorgeous just the same. We go in to our ankles and just savor God's glory.
And then, I spot more sand.
"Let's hike there," I say and because Steve is the right guy for me, he says, "Sure."
So we hike some more, discover a hidden little river and a bigger beach. And such blessed privacy and beauty.
All this to say...God's glory is worth hiking for. Look beyond, and take the risk.
I'll remember my sister's kindness and the lovely company she and my brother-in-law Peter provide. These are special moments that bless us.
I will, however, forget all the hotels and restaurants and even the nice pool we enjoy.
But this...this private beach where God's glory pounds with every crashing wave. This I will never forget.
It's just not for me.
Then you've got the beach sitters. At the big hotels, you've got to get out early to save a spot under the grass umbrellas (the name of which I never came remember). One of the biggest hotels requires people to line up at 6 AM to receive a "flag". If they leave their beach chairs unattended for more than two hours, they will lose possession of their location.
My sister and her husband are too practical for all that. They buy beach chairs, go to the open-air beaches (where the waves are better) and happily share shade with everyone.
Steve and I...well, we're known for adventuring. Or, as my sisters used to put it, risking everyone's lives so we can inherit.
The most famous natural landmark in Aruba is the "natural bridge". (I'll post about that another time...the natural bridge is its own spiritual reminder of mortality.) The natural bridge is on the wild side of the island, requiring a ride over bumpy dusty roads. All the tour busses go there, unloading people into the parking lot. They take their pictures, buy expensive souvenirs, then get back on the bus.
We take a ride and I spot sand way beyond the natural bridge...and beyond any road...unless you're riding a 4-wheeler to go over volcanic rock.
So I say to Steve, "let's hike there."
Aruba isn't the best place for hiking. We're near the equator, and noontime sun is brutal, even for natives. However, the wind on the wild side of the island blows steadily off the water, with nothing to block it. There's the illusion of bearable, and sunscreen does the rest.
So we hike. And it's not bad, and not long. I trip once, fall and don't break anything, thank you, Jesus. We come to a private beach, water too violent to enter but gorgeous just the same. We go in to our ankles and just savor God's glory.
And then, I spot more sand.
"Let's hike there," I say and because Steve is the right guy for me, he says, "Sure."
So we hike some more, discover a hidden little river and a bigger beach. And such blessed privacy and beauty.
All this to say...God's glory is worth hiking for. Look beyond, and take the risk.
I'll remember my sister's kindness and the lovely company she and my brother-in-law Peter provide. These are special moments that bless us.
I will, however, forget all the hotels and restaurants and even the nice pool we enjoy.
But this...this private beach where God's glory pounds with every crashing wave. This I will never forget.
2 comments:
Ahhhhhh.
That sounds like such a gorgeous place, a hike worth taking.
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