Every summer since I was in second grade, our family has packed up and driven down to St. George Island, Florida. While the group that accompanies us has changed, that little island still holds such a huge place in my heart.
This year was no different. I see my best friend maybe twice a year, one of those always being on the island. It is usually me, my parents, my boyfriend, my best friend, her boyfriend, and my 15 year old cousin. The week was full of laughs and tears and food and jellyfish stings and game nights (including my mom playing Cards Against Humanity with us, that one we won’t talk about).
But more than the cold margaritas and the always-sandy feet, I am taken aback each and every time. If you’ve never been to a non-commercialized beach, I highly suggest it. After 9 pm, it is completely dark and quiet, with the exception of maybe two bars on the island. You can see every single gosh dang star in the sky, the moon’s reflection over the water lighting up the beach just enough to see that you aren’t about to walk into a chair someone left in the sand. We sit out on the deck at night with my dad and “solve the world’s problems.”
One night, while solving world problems, we got on the topic of how amazing it is to think about what could be out in that water. The horizon, from roughly eye level, is about 3-ish miles away. The amount of water out there, and life that, as a painfully average human, I have never and will never see. The stars sparkling in the sky, so many of them that there is almost no blackness up there, every single inch covered with what looks like glitter. It makes you feel small. Tiny. Microscopic and unimportant standing next to such a powerful force. The warm waters feed storms that have devastated millions. The currents dragging anything it can out to see. Waves that, in other areas outside of the usually-calm Gulf, can tear apart boats. And here I am, I can barely bench press the bar and can’t do a pull up, or run for more than 10 minutes without falling out into the floor. I am so weak and fragile and dependent, standing next to a force that does not care who or what you are.
But, I am more important than all of the birds and the marine life and the waters and the sand. We, as humans, are loved more than any other creation. The one true God that made all of the oceans and the life in them, who controls the currents and formed the land I stand on to admire such a beautiful scene, loves ME more than all of the other things He formed with His words. He can speak things into existence, and yet He chooses to use us to share His word. He does not need us. He is more powerful than we could ever comprehend in this short life. Yet He made all of these things for us, the puny, little, sinful humans.
Moral of the story, You are loved more than all of the stars. You are cherished by someone much more important than any other human.
“And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth. So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them. And God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth. And God said, Behold, I have given you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree, in the which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed; to you it shall be for meat. And to every beast of the earth, and to every fowl of the air, and to every thing that creepeth upon the earth, wherein there is life, I have given every green herb for meat: and it was so. And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good. And the evening and the morning were the sixth day.” – Genesis 1:26-31