Church at the Beach

Sunday morning Duncan announced he thought he'd like to worship at Folly Beach this week and he didn't get any argument from me. The temperature was in the mid 70s, the sky was blue, and we both felt the need to just be and listen to the surf.

So we broke bread at the Lost Dog and took our beach chairs and books and stilled our minds and bodies while watching an incredibly steady stream of young and old going into the water with surfboards. I had no idea there were so many people who owned wet suits. Before it was over, we took a short walk, but mostly we just sat and read and napped and listened to waves and gulls and felt the breeze. It was a good service.