HOLDING THE SUN

     A year ago when we visited our favorite Gulf Beach, Ft. Myers Beach, our friends gave us a delightful champagne sunset cruise on the back bays and inlets surrounding Estero Island. The cruise went beyond delightful and bordered on incredible when the captain of our boat found dolphins to frolic and play in the wake of the boat. I love these friendly creatures and am entranced with watching from our balcony or beach facing the Gulf. But in the boat’s wake we got so close we could spot the dolphin's smile, see him twist; watch his belly glisten against the white caps.
     Overtaken with amazement and joy I wanted to share my dolphin experience with everyone, including my family, especially my grandchildren. For a year I talked, probably too much, about those dolphins. Knowing they were coming to Florida on Spring Break this year, two of my granddaughters and I even discussed swimming with the dolphins in Key West or Orlando. We finally settled on another sunset cruise with the same captain. I was bursting with excitement. I could hardly hold onto my enthusiasm.
     We did see dolphins, but no frisky, playful dolphins. I was crushed. But as we observed eagles’ nests on a nearby beach, baby osprey chirping from their nest, and even a manatee slugging along, I began to understand God was imploring me to embrace this moment, not my moment I had envisioned and built up, but His moment. My family surrounded me in a serene, soothing spot of splendor. The sun blazed oranges, pinks and purples across the breaking whiteness of the surf. And when the captain showed my oldest granddaughter, Claudia, and I how to hold the sun together, I realized this moment would be sacred too.