Glimmering rays of light begin to shine in the distance, slowly increasing in brightness until the dark dawn is become daybreak. Pink and orange hues of light give way to just a touch of deep velvet purple with splashes of red ochre drawn from the heart of the sun itself. The reflection thrown back from the surface of the deep expresses mutual admiration from earth to the heavenly body just beginning to reveal its daily glory.
As he surveys this majestic display, the artist smiles to himself in appreciation. “Another masterpiece! Pity it only lasts for those few minutes.”
“Aah.. Well. Tomorrow’s dawn will come. The canvas will be waiting.”
Water splashes and foams against his feet, gently calling out to him as he casually moves a little farther away from its endless voice.
Embers glowing, the fire he built before sunrise is perfect for braising that catch of fish. Occasionally prodding the fire with the branch of driftwood he has picked up on his morning walk, he sits and waits patiently for his friends to arrive.
Noticing the sand on his feet, he smiles and brushes it away. Every step along the shoreline had brought grains of sand and pebbles clinging to his bare feet, as though the sand itself leapt up to take part in his early morning activities. While he walked, his feet had compressed the sand beneath, forming unique prints in that soft moist earth.
Strapping on sandals, he sits cross legged and looks at his legs and feet, once again amazed at the intricacy of his physical body. The creator within him surveys and approves such marvelous handiwork.
Softly humming to himself and watching the waves, he recalls memories of these waters. He has seen them raging and pounding. He has seen them still as glass. Today they are soft and gentle as a lover’s caress against the shore. Strong gusts of wind blow in his dark hair, and with salt crusted fingers, he pushes his hair behind his ears to keep it out of his eyes and face.
Almost absent mindedly, he places a few fish on the fire and flattens the dough to make bread.
Squinting his eyes against the morning sun, intently he watches the horizon, knowing it won’t be long till he sees the boat coming in.
His friends will be surprised to see him. It’s been a while. They may not recognize him. For certain, they are not expecting him. This thought brings a chuckle and a grin to his weathered and tanned face. His anticipation grows with each second in time. There is so much he wants to say to them. So much to share.
Off in the distance, the sail finally appears. It nears the shoreline and he quickly comes to his feet . Cupping his hands to his mouth, he calls out loudly to the men in the boat, “You have caught no fish! Cast your net one more time on the right side of the boat!”
Doubtful that it will work, but almost desperate, for some reason the exhausted fishermen do as he says and their net is filled with fish! It is so full they can not carry the load. They will have to drag it to shore. It’s an unexpected and amazing catch, and they begin to question their turn of good luck.
Suddenly comprehending what has happened, the disciples recognize the man who is still standing on the wind driven sandy beach.
“It’s the Lord! It’s the Master! Jesus!”
Earth, wind and sea seem to echo their cry of recognition. "The Master is here!"
Without hesitation, Peter dives into the water and heads straight for Him, not waiting for his fellows in the boat. Deprived of his companionship for too long, the men all anxiously head for the shore and their friend. His conversation and presence is what they have been thirsting and hungering for.
“Come!” Laughing for joy, He shouts once again to his friends across the blowing salt wind. He can’t wait to see them and talk with them again!
“Come and break your fast!”
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