FALL 2008I visited Seaside Heights today to pick up some of my son’s possessions. Rob is moving in with us in a few days. No one answered the phone when I first arrived, so I went to the shore to revel in clear blue sky, pounding waves, off-white sand.
There were sea gulls flying about, dropping shelled creatures in preparation for a feast, and dropping fertilizer on dune grasses and red flowers that looked a lot like roses. I’m not sure if they were roses or not, since there was a fence separating the dune plants from me, and I could not get near enough to them to inspect them closely. I took a few photographs, and wrote a couple of poems in my notebook. I watched a few tourists walking on the boardwalk.
I have been to Seaside Heights off and on for five summers now, visiting Rob, my daughter-in-law, Deborah, and my grandkids, Shahid and Josiah. There are far fewer tourists here this summer than I have ever seen before. The city parking lot I parked my car in was less than a quarter full. Usually, it is impossible to find a parking space. The rise in gas prices and the overall rising of the price of food and other necessities are definitely keeping people away from the Jersey shore. I found myself wondering how many people, like my son, have lost their jobs this year.
After a bit of time, Rob answered my phone call, and I left the shore to pick him up and go with him to a Mexican restaurant for lunch. The restaurant was almost empty. Then we returned to Rob’s apartment, where I waited while he packed bags in my car. After that, I drove away to meet my husband, Mario.
It was both a wonderful day and a sad day. It was wonderful because I felt God in the glory of sea and sky; I echoed God in the love I feel and demonstrate for Mario and Rob. I looked across creation and knew that it is good. I imagined God looking at the same creation and also knowing that it is good.
And it was sad because I saw so much unemployment, so much hopelessness. I saw people who were obviously homeless on the streets. I saw faces with eyes that stared at nothing, lost in despair. I imagine God sees them too, and weeps with sharper tears than I can ever shed.
We all need to pray. We need to pray for ourselves, our children, our friends. We need to pray for the nameless masses who are facing this current crisis, often alone and without hope. We need to pray, not just for God to change things, but for God to change us, so we become his instruments in meeting the needs of the poor, the confused, the frightened, both children and adults. We need to become part of God’s plans to help and protect all who are lost amid the confusions and pains of these dark days. We need to open ourselves to being used by to create a brighter, more loving future for everyone around us.
Sondra Ball
Clerk, Salem Quarterly MeetingRETURN TO TABLE OF CONTENTS
Last modified:
Monday, August 11, 2008 at 10:30 PM
