For Spring break one year, I took my family to the beach. Unfortunately, it was a beach in Washington. We arrived at our rented cottage in time to enjoy rain that made me wonder if God had revoked his promise to Noah to never flood the earth again.
Finally, there was a very brief sun break. We got dressed in our wool hats, winter coats, and boots to enjoy an arctic walk on the beach. There was no sand on the beach—because it was all in my mouth and eyes.
What was most impressive was the gale-force wind. At one point, I literally held on to our youngest child in fear that he would be blown over. Before long, we scurried back to our cottage to thaw out, play board games, and bemoan the fact that we did not live in Southern California. Since this was the first day of what was supposed to be an entire week’s vacation, things seemed hopeless.
Looking out the window some hours later, I came up with an idea that I thought might salvage our spring break: kites. I went to find a kite shop so we could try to use the weather to our advantage.
Thankfully, there was an epic kite store not far away. I bought some big, nice, serious kites—the kind that could handle a flight attendant on board. Eventually the rain stopped, so we went out for the maiden voyage of our kites.
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