Sanderlings Poem by Paul Clement Czaja

And then one day,
I remember sitting on a beach
in the early morning
alone with the sand and the waves.
A small flock of Sanderlings
suddenly swept low over the breaking waves
and landed in a flurry right there on the wet sand
about twenty five yards in front of me.
To my delight
they began their funny racing dance –
all together rushing on their spindly legs
after the receding wave –
pecking into the sopping sand for tidbits
as they dashed - and then
as the ocean turned
and sent a new wave rushing in toward the beach,
they spun around and ran like crazy
for all their life up the sand
just ahead of the curling white foam of the incoming wave –
their tiny sticks of legs going so fast
they became a blur.

The tide wave stops and reverses
pulling back again.
The Sanderlings spin around
and rush as one chasing after it,
pecking as they go –
so fast - so funny!
It reminds me
of how you and I run after God,
picking up His many graces
lying everywhere on the wet beach,
and then
when He turns Himself towards us
and comes running at us in love,
we flee in such a panic the angels must laugh at us –
dashing away like the tiny Sanderliings
as fast as we can
lest we get caught by love!