I once heard a man say that fishing was his method of “attending church.” I thought it sounded trite and so different from the traditional style of worship. What did it mean? Years later, I understood the metaphor. It was during the 2-22-22 “milestone.”

I didn’t experience it while fishing but rather watching a sunrise at the beach. I refer to it as “church at the beach.” This is how my church at the beach transpired. A choir of birds awakened me in time for a church service called sunrise. Completely metaphorical and not intended at all to be sarcastic, it’s a contemplation and meditation of how I analyze this morning on the beach to equate to the worship that takes place in a church. My morning “church service” looks like this….The chapel is a beach in the Caribbean/Central America. When they say “God is in the details,” this is what they’re talking about, especially if you listen and feel closely. No extra grooming required. (I was in my pajamas).  No stewardship, except for the ultimate stewardship to the Earth. No committee details, either. You are in the presence of God’s nature. The dome of this church is the sky of clouds. There are no icons except for the Central American clouds which are the best in the world (in my opinion). “Ekklesia”, the Greek word for church, means assembly. I love my church assembly back home. On this day, I realized that some people have to disassemble, though. In solitude, free from distraction, every prayer that has resided in my heart has emerged this morning just as the sun rises and lifts higher on the horizon. The rays extend to lift the orb. The sun and earth are synchronous;  like life, like relationships. The sea breezes softly push me and keep me in my chaise lounge. The chaises are the church pews.  Now the gulls have started to attend this church. My coffee is my communion and fryjacks are the communion bread. The ocean waves are the pounding chords of the church organ and the gulls are the chanters. The locals walking their dogs are the ushers and altar boys. The hymnal is my spiral where I’m recording this sermonette.

This time was spent giving  thanks and praise to God for health, life, this trip, and this moment. Prayers and reflections were given for my husband, sons, family, parents in Heaven, and friends. I prayed for the recently departed loved ones and others who are fighting disease. My prayers were dedicated to them  during this morning sunrise. I paused to give a moment to epiphanies and irony. Certain experiences in life are burgeoning while other things are fading. We evolve and adapt by accepting some changes while working harder through others. The hammock nearby cradled and rocked me with the safety of a confessional. The kayak carried me out onto the seawater like being bobbed and lowered into a baptismal font.

“Resort” means to go frequently. Getaways are the psyche’s way of therapy and healing when we’ve had enough or too much or too little. Back home, a house exterior restoration project was reaching completion at seven months. Ironically, I was receiving interior restoration on this trip. Riding bikes with my husband  through the village cemetery made me feel like a kid again. We flew countries away to be at a resort near a fishing village with simple shacks and dogs and chickens in the street but somehow we’ve luxuriated. The children played and smiled all the day long. On the tombstones of the cemetery, the etchings say Sunrise for the date of birth and Sunset for the date of death. The village people were the missionaries and the message there was not lost on me. The night sky full of stars were  the candles lit all around us in this church. The shooting stars were the lanterns and chanters. It will all start over again tomorrow. Let us pray. Amen. I prefer my house of worship style but it’s always nice to find “God in the details” everywhere.

© Gina Michalopulos Kingsley