I’ve been to the beach here months after a hurricane and seen the white sand banks piled high on either side of the gulf coast road like so many snow drifts four and five feet high. Sure, there’s a great berm topped with sea oats in front of the condo that was not there before Katrina. A barrier to protect us.
The remnants of the WILL YOU MARRY ME? sand art we spotted from our condo balcony the first morning is barely visible now. It makes me smile, but not for long. The footprints cutting through from it under the fence assault my mind. Footprints of those who trampled upon the plants that struggle to protect us. God’s natural barriers disregarded by those too lazy to walk forty feet over to the created and maintained path for their use. Will this hill of struggling life be here tomorrow?