The Language of Sea Glass
- 88gato88
- Apr 13
- 2 min read
by Lori Wilson
I've spent this week at the Atlantic Ocean, and I find myself reluctant to leave. I live beside Long Island Sound, and there's something about being near big water that opens me to the sacred. On my kayak, or walking the shoreline, I feel the closeness of God in ways that don't always come as easily in other places.
This week, as I walked contemplating the ocean's immensity, six dolphins appeared, swimming in the same direction I was walking. I felt their companionship—a reminder that I'm not alone, that God travels alongside us, sometimes in unexpected forms.
The waves have always reminded me of God's heartbeat. At home near the Sound, the water is often calm and quiet, but here at the ocean, I keep a window open just to hear that steady rhythm. It's comforting and ever-present, much like I experience God—constant, faithful, always there even when I'm not paying attention.
On another morning this week, I paused in my walk and spoke directly to God: "Show me a piece of sea glass so I know you are with me." I'm not shy about asking God to show herself to me. The very next second, five seagulls flew noisily overhead. I followed their path and was mesmerized by what I saw—the sun glinting off the water in a way that made it look exactly like glass. Sea glass.
"Yes, God," I said. "I see it. I hear you. You are near."
I was filled with gratitude and an immense sense of love and well-being. God answered, not quite as I expected, but in a language I could understand once I was willing to look.

Reflection Questions
Where do you most naturally sense God's presence? What places, activities, or moments open you to the sacred?
When have you asked God for a sign of presence? How did God respond—and was it what you expected, or something different?
What would it mean for you to be "not shy" about asking God to show up in your day? What might you ask for?
How does God's "heartbeat" sound to you? What rhythms or patterns in creation remind you of God's faithful presence?
Prayer
God of dolphin-companionship and glinting light,
You who speak in the language of waves and wings,
Thank you for meeting us where we are,
for answering in ways we can understand once we're willing to see.
Give us the courage to ask you to show yourself,
and the attentiveness to recognize your response—
even when it comes differently than we imagined.
Steady our hearts with the rhythm of your presence,
constant as the waves,
faithful as the turning of tides.
We are listening. We are looking.
Show us you are near.
Amen.




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