He sauntered along the shore
Pondering the encounters of yesterday
A long day brimming with people and problems
Yet bursting with purpose.

The sea always refreshed Him
Especially in the early morning
When He could bask in the rising sun
And be consumed by the beauty of creation...
His creation.

The surf formed and glistened in the sunlight
Rippling over his sandals,
Caressing his bare ankles.
The seagulls billowed overhead
Diving now and then for their morning breakfast.
Grains of sand drifted past him
Nudged ahead by the gentle breeze
Which came from nowhere
Yet blew with purpose.

He walked on, peacefully,
Aware that this time would soon be up
And He would be needed again
But not yet....

Suddenly He knelt to cradle a half-buried shell
A treasure hurled onto the sands of time
Once tossed and pressed by the mighty sea
But now perfectly formed for its destined purpose
To show the marvels of its Creator.

And the morning Traveler remembered
When He had been hurled into this world by His loving Father
Pressed by time and humanity
For this destined purpose...
To be discovered by a seeking and weary world
As their Greatest Treasure.