The Heavens Declare...

Yesterday my husband took me to the Point Loma Lighthouse. He needed to take some photos for a project, so I came along for the company and the fun. While his camera clicked away, I just soaked up the beauty of the place. At the edge of a cliff, this beautiful little house sat contentedly in the middle of fields of yellow flowers.

 

The smell of the salty, clean ocean swirled all around as the wind kissed every inch of the peninsula. Waves danced along the shore and made music with the seagulls and pelicans. Pure beauty.

I know that my pictures don't quite do it justice, but the sunshine of the day just enhanced every color on the point and I couldn't stop myself from trying to capture it.

As I explored the inside of the lighthouse -- set up as the cute, little home it once was -- I wondered how fascinating, but lonely it must have been living there. When the lighthouse was active, the family who ran it could only get to San Diego by wagon and it was a long & bumpy road getting there. Their living room walls were covered with picture frames and even pictures fashioned out of shells and rocks found along the beach. Quite creative. Imagine, though, having to stay on the point for months and hardly go anywhere else. As a child, it could be heaven, but as a teenager, did they get bored? As an adult, how humbling.

Overall, the day was beautiful and perfect. We explored the tidepools after, looking for a few more shots that he needed. At the edge of one of the cliffs by the tidepools, the water splashed up so joyfully that I just had to giggle to myself. I love how the ocean is so playful at times. God's creation truly does declare His glory. You're so cool, God.

8 o'clock Tick Tock

All I hear is the quiet ticking of the clock. Its dull, monotonous sound irritates me.

My fingers have been itching to write. It must be the writer deep inside me, bored of relaxation. No papers have been due for a year now and the only writing I've done can be found in letters to friends and office work projects - none of which satisfy my thirst for deep, clear, crystal writing. I long for something that stretches my imagination, something that inspires me to reach new horizons. Perhaps, I have let myself become used to the daily grind. Every afternoon, I come into the office and do what office people do. Nothing inspirational. There is no creativity (unless you consider designing flyers creative enough to qualify... but at the end of the week those just get thrown out, so what's the point?). I feel like I'm molding and growing cobwebs on my authoretical heart.

I am no author by any means. Yes, I've gone to school for such things and I have dreamed of writing items of meaning and interest. Children's books appeal to my young and jovial heart. But at the moment I am trapped in my own monotony. To soothe my aching writer's bones, I have begun a journal to keep track of an impending event. Unfortunately I cannot disclose the details here, but I hope that this endeavor will spur me on to let my pen fly around again with direction.

As an encouragement to myself, I will set aside a small time each week to ponder on something I encountered over that week. Perhaps this will do the trick! Creativity is not dead within my heart. It is simply sleeping and in need of some electroshock therapy. So here we go... the beginning of a reawakening...