Last July I found myself on our first family vacation in five years. I could not sleep, but that was nothing new. I desperately needed to be staring at the back of my eye-lids but I could not seem to shake something that crossed my mind while at the beach the day before. The ocean is wonderful, mysterious, gorgeous, and some what terrifying. It is not tame or predictable. It can not be contained or strong armed. It does as it sees fit. It is chaos. But it is nothing less than breath-takingly chaotic. The waves dance across the horizon much farther than our eyes can even see and there is this pull about them. It is almost a beckoning into the unknown. Deep calling out to deep. A boundless, infinite, surging, violent, song that reverberates through our bones. Those waves gripped at my feet and I could not help but think of grace. I have started to learn to see it in places and things where I never thought I would find it, little pieces of prickess treasures hidden in the most seemingly insignificant of fields.