And so the trek to Tybee Island begins. It’s a journey of miles, of hours, of tradition. And of hope. Hope of finding spiritual rest and renewal in the quiet of this place. In the constancy of the tides departing and returning. In the walking to the beach to be present for the promised sunrise; in the sitting across from the marsh, watching the days end. And in the promise of rest in the beauty of place and in God.
Departing early this morning under a beautiful mountain sunrise, I’m headed to the big city to meet my best traveling friend; we’ll then drive east for several hours until Tybee Island comes into view.
It always feels like coming home. Home to Lent on Tybee Time.