My air mattress was flat and the chill of the sand penetrated through the tent. Camp was silent in the early dawn. The waves washing up on the beach had a gentle rhythm but I couldn't go back to sleep.  Stealthily I pulled on my jeans and sweatshirt, unzipped the flap and crept out of the tent, leaving my husband sleeping. 

We were pretending to be fine. Putting on a show of being happily married.  It was my fault. I had given up on him. Someone else took his place in my heart, and I wanted out. My husband was so hurt I felt terrible, and I was trying to “make things work”. I knew if I told anyone in the family they would stop loving me because they couldn’t accept my choices.  Adultery is a sin, plan “B” is not an option. So we continued going to church for appearances sake. “God hates divorce” so I was trapped, hating God for the place I was in.

The cold waves bubbled over my bare toes . Pebbles, seaweed and occasional parts of shells were everywhere. Cigarette butts, pop tops and trash littered the sand. I couldn’t find any decent agates and the sand dollars I found were broken. Not one whole one anywhere to be seen. With disgust, I thought “God the least you could do is give me a whole sand dollar”. 

With reluctant feet, I turned back to retrace my steps to camp. If I didn’t get back soon someone might miss me. Stop! There was a whole sand dollar! Another! Unbroken sand dollars were everywhere, perfect ones laying among the broken bits! Right where I already searched. The hair stood up on the back of my neck. A God thing. 

I picked up a few, then ran back to the campsite, got a bucket and filled it up. 

I was still mad at God, but He loved me.