“A holy life will produce the deepest impression. Lighthouses blow no horns; they only shine.” ~ D.L. Moody
I have seen a lot of Light houses in my time. Living near the coast you can’t help but become familiar with these oddly shaped structures.
Resembling a turret from a castle, I picture a mermaid version of Repunzel trapped in one, her long locks flowing in the wind. Or perhaps the mermaid princess is waiting for her lost love. She is guiding sailors to shore with her voice, calling them home through the darkness.
Light houses have roused my imagination since I was a child. Letting the fascination fester and blossom into an obsession as I have gotten older.
They have been around for centuries sharing their many varied histories along the coasts. They are the structures that have born the brunt of the mistresses angry waves. With standing fierce storms and even the gruesomeness of war.
They are like lonesome pillars, sturdy, steadfast, yet palls of sadness surround them as they stand resolute, casting its beacon of hope out to sea.
I have always had a dream of living in one. It tugs at my mermaid heart. To live in such a place. The parapet between land and ocean. Heaven and earth. To feel the wind in my face as I look behind me to the shores and in front to the seas.
The light dancing amongst the ocean. Resilient, yet beckoning. Calling them back to the dwellings they have left. Guiding those who need it. Always standing resolute. Never faltering, protecting us from the rocks of pain. Yet Guiding us into the paths we were meant to swim.
