It was the perfect day.
It was sunny and warm, but not too warm. We had everything we needed for a relaxing day at the beach: towels, a picnic lunch, books to read, our journals, a volleyball. The waves were crashing beautifully, and we had the whole beach to ourselves for as far as the eye could see. The sand was soft and white. The water was the loveliest shade of cerulean imaginable. Only the shade of the sky could compare. There was a soft breeze.
We talked. We laughed. We were silent, watching the waves. We grew closer in the silence, somehow.
As I lay on that beach towel, I reveled in the warmth of the sun on my skin. My soul drank deeply of the draught of relationship. There was communion with My Savior - worship of Him, in awe of His might and strength and power, on display in those crashing waves. There was communion with this sister of my heart.
It is rare when you can name a day that changed you. This perfect, gift-day changed me. My soul grew that day.