I’m having a difficult time heeding my own advice over the whole oil spill thing. Joe resigned the possibility of a beach vacation this summer weeks ago.

But I’m not giving up. Last September he rediscovered the wonder that is the ocean and developed a desire for it that almost matches my own. Almost. I can’t begin to tell you what that meant to me. Sure, it’s not uncommon for married couples to share an immense longing for the ocean’s waves, salty air and sugar white beaches. But it strengthened our bond and deepened my love for this man. It’s sappy but true. So true.

News updates as well as facebook updates are discouraging. Sophie asked the other night what was wrong with the bird on the news. Our state bird. So sad. I’ve been hoping to convince Joe that we should consider Kema, Texas. It’s not the same as Florida beaches or the Alabama coast. Sorry, Texas. But it is the beach. And we could really use the getaway. Forget our cares. Forget the awful mess here at home on our own coast. I could get lost just thinking about it.

But then Joe came home last night and informed me that he heard there is another oil spill in the Gulf. Another spill. Seriously, Google it.

“You know what’s going to happen, ” I asked, referring to environmental activists and their take on drilling for oil in the gulf. Or anywhere. “Yea,” he said so emphatically that I was certain he knew exactly what I was thinking. “The Lord is going to come get His people.”

Hopefully soon, Joe. Hopefully soon. So we should probably take that beach trip soon just in case.