“Notice the ravens, they do not sow or reap, they have neither storehouse or barn, yet God feeds them. How much more important are you than birds!” Luke 12:24

In her best-selling book, “Gift From the Sea,” author Anne Morrow Lindbergh speaks of solitude, simplicity and caring for the soul, writing, “The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient. To dig for treasures shows not only impatience and greed, but lack of faith. Patience, patience, patience, is what the sea teaches. Patience and faith. One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach – waiting for a gift from the sea.”

I read these words long before I had ever visited the ocean – an experience I wouldn’t have until I met my future husband in college and he took me “down the shore,” in New Jersey. Finally, I understood what Lindbergh was sharing.

There is something out of the ordinary in crossing the bridge over Barnegat Bay to the island towns of Ortley Beach, Lavallette and Seaside Park. As soon as I get to the other side my whole body relaxes and I breathe a sigh of relief.

Before it’s even in sight, one can sense the beach, and the magic of the ocean seems to penetrate the body with peace.

Beach living is a special experience, and so are those rare people who are genuine beach people.

My dear friend, John, is a beach person, as is his wife, Rose. Father of five beachlings, grandfather to a brood of grandchildren, and writer at heart, this is also a man who can create an outstanding turn of the phrase in a heartbeat.

Take, for example, his exuberant description of a new tool – a battery operated screw driver – as a “roller coaster for the hand!” Or his insightful declaration upon waking from a brief, late-night ocean air snooze after making s’mores in an outdoor fireplace: “There’s nothing better than a snore and a s’more!” he exclaimed with a sleepy grin.

He relishes the simplicity of it all.

It seems that’s what real beach people are all about – the simple things, the priceless things – the sunrise over the ocean, sunset over the bay, the sound of waves, the smell of rain, laughter, music, and a really good hot dog or zeppole.

John would appreciate Lindbergh’s experience: “One learns first of all in beach living the art of shedding; how little one can get along with, not how much.”

Jesus had the heart of a beach person – a heart of gratitude for the extraordinary gifts of his Father, no doubt relishing every setting sun, every evening walk with one of the apostles, a fire on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, a simple dinner with Martha and Mary and Lazarus, time to pray.

But still, there was one gift above all others that Jesus treasured. Love. Love directed toward his friends, his family, his mother; love that drew him to heal, to teach and to lead others to the Father; love that would lead him to the cross. He seemed to instinctively know that leading a simple life, unburdened by possessions and worry, even about where he would live, would make it possible for him to have the strength he needed to love as deeply as he did.

I think Jesus would agree with a contemporary beach maxim: “it’s not the furniture, it’s who is sitting in it that matters.” If we have friends and family sitting in our furniture, then we need to fill up our hearts with gratitude.

God has already filled up our lives with love.