I Know What's Best For You

Sunday morning:  we had heard light rain off and on overnight, but by mid-morning it had abated.  We once again attended worship services at the Methodist Church in Morehead City, enjoying the warm fellowship, beautiful music, and good preaching that we enjoy so much there.  A youth choir of eight teen-aged girls sang a Christmas-themed adaptation of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah, and Mary Did You Know.  These girls were just amazing, singing out boldly with their sweet voices unlike some youth choirs I have heard before. During the offertory, a woman with a very beautiful voice, unidentified in the bulletin, sang Great Is Thy Faithfulness, one of my favorite hymns, from the rear of the choir; we think she also accompanied herself on the piano.

Powell preached the second in a series of sermons around the theme "Stuff My Mom Said."  This week he talked about "I know what's best for you."  He said that, at some point when he was in his early 30s, married, with a home and children, he asked himself how his Mom and Dad had gotten so smart.  We don't always appreciate wisdom when we are young, do we ?  Very true.  Powell has a style of preaching that is easy and funny, but before long he begins to quote scripture and St. Augustine and C. S. Lewis.  There are always a few thoughts to carry out of the church and think about for the rest of the week.

We decided to have lunch at The Ruddy Duck, a place that Lizette introduced us to years ago, directly on the waterfront in Morehead City.  The hostess told us they had gotten four feet of water in the restaurant, and it looked like the floor, walls, and restrooms were entirely new.  We had some of their clear "Downeast" clam chowder favored in this part of the country.

In the afternoon, we found ourselves back on the beach, walking the mile or so down to Oceana Pier and back.  There is always plenty to see, even on a cloudy day.  Light gleaming along the horizon:

Martha found a whelk and a lettered olive shell, and part of a sand dollar.  She also found a coin high up in the sand, far from the ocean, which was so worn and discolored that we could not read the writing on it; closer examination, alas, revealed that it was not one of Blackbeard's gold doubloons but a mere U.S. quarter, and a 2018 one at that.

High tide leaves behind a long, meandering line of shells of all sorts, a kind of mosaic, or puzzle.

This little sandpiper was busy in the breaking surf, darting back and forth on long legs, searching for dinner.

We never tire of simply walking on this beach, seeing what there is to see.  And there is always something to see if our eyes are open.