EP 01 · Written on His Palms
A Palm Print in the Cabo Sand
Golden light, a palm print in the sand, and sand still pouring in, grain by grain — twenty seconds that carry an old promise: you are not forgotten.
Sand, still pouring in — grain by grain.
The Beach, Late in the Day
It was the low, golden end of the day on the beach in Los Cabos. The light was raking sideways across the sand, catching every ripple, and in the middle of it there was a palm print — small, clear, pressed deep enough to hold its shape. And the sand was still pouring in: a thin, steady stream, grain by grain, settling into the fingers, filling the hollow of the hand. Nothing else was happening. No waves reaching it, no one standing over it. Just sand, arriving one grain at a time, until the print was full.
"Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me." — Isaiah 49:16 (KJV)
Anyone who has walked a beach knows a print in the sand is the most temporary writing there is — the tide edits everything by morning. That is what made me stand there. Because the verse that came to me on that sand runs the other way: not us trying to hold on to God with both hands, but being held — engraved, not pencilled in. A name cut into a palm does not wash off at high tide. If you have felt forgotten lately, this small print in the Cabo sand is for you: grain by grain, you are still being gathered in, and you have not slipped past His hand for one moment.
The song over these twenty seconds is I Speak Jesus, sung the way a whole congregation sings it. And tomorrow morning, a longer walk begins on this same coast: our 100 Days of Morning Prayer — one sunrise, one song, every morning, starting at daybreak. It begins here: 100 Days Of Morning Prayer stories
Sister series · Faith Through TravelMy Lord, Holy — the places that made me stop and pray: waterfalls, harbours, sunrises, and the God who was already there.Reader stories
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- EP 01A Palm Print in the Cabo SandGolden light, a palm print in the sand, and sand still pouring in, grain by grain — twenty seconds that carry an old promise: you are not forgotten.