Peering Through Life's Window

          I carried the blue canvas stadium chair to the beach and planted it in the deep, white sand. A baby lizard lay in the seat. My husband, Rick, flipped it out with his hand and turned around to set up his chair. Tail and all, the tiny creature measured only one to one-and-a-half inches. It writhed in the grained earth.      Bright sunshine lit up the spring day, but the shore felt chilly to my bare feet. He must be cold. I stared at the lizard. His little arms and legs so thin; his fingers, like short pieces of thread, wiggled frantically. “Now you’ve done it.”      Rick sat down.      “He can’t travel on the beach,” I said.      Rick stood. Using his foot, he scooped up a large amount of sand with the lizard atop it. He took several steps, and the sand filtered to the ground, so he flicked off the lizard and repeated the process. At first the little reptile squirmed as though h...

Christian writer, speaker Leigh Delozier shares her experience the day the clouds stood still when she walked on the beach in Charleston, S.C. BEACH WALKING WITH GOD It’s a beautiful spring day, and I’m walking on the beach in Charleston, SC, with friends while we enjoy a girls’ weekend away from the world. The sun is already warming things up and the sky is bluer than blue, even though there are a lot of clouds trying to cover it up. But they’re pure, white clouds with no rain in sight – it’s just the right setting for a lazy day together. The sand is flat and packed down perfectly for walking. Countless shells lie half-buried near the water. So many colors, so many shapes, so many designs. Seeing things like that reminds me just how creative God really is. Waves curl and roll up and back, up and back, depositing new shells while they steal away others. Where did the shells come from? How far have they traveled? How many beaches have they washed up on, only to be pulled back ...

I carried the blue canvas stadium chair to the beach and planted it in the deep, white sand. A baby lizard lay in the seat. My husband, Rick, flipped it out with his hand and turned around to set up his chair. Tail and all, the tiny creature measured only one to one-and-a-half inches. Trying to move, it writhed in the grained earth. Bright sunshine lit up the fall day, but the shore felt chilly to my bare feet. He must be cold. I stared at the lizard. His little arms and legs so thin; his fingers, like short pieces of thread, wiggled frantically. “Now you’ve done it.” Rick sat down. “He can’t travel on the beach,” I said. Rick stood. Using his foot, he scooped up a large amount of sand with the lizard atop it. He took several steps, and the sand filtered to the ground, so he flicked off the lizard and repeated the process. At first the little reptile squirmed as though he tried to escape. But after a while he lay very still while Rick picked him up and moved him. At last Rick reached ...