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Views from The Coast of Maine (and how it changed my life)

I’m joining today with the Five Minute Friday community of writers who write for 5 minutes about a one-word prompt.

Today’s writing prompt is VIEW.

It had been a hard and heavy season and I had begun praying for this trip ever since I booked it six months ago.

While my prayers for the specific trip began six months prior to arriving, I had always held the desire in my heart to go to Maine.

I’m not sure why. I just woke up one day about 4 years ago and decided that I longed for sleepy coastal towns that held lighthouses, history, and cobbled streets.

And as we drove on unfamiliar roads in our rental car into Portland, Maine, that’s exactly what we found.

I have to admit, I was a bit nervous upon arriving. What if Maine didn’t live up to the expectations I had for her? What if this trip didn’t turn out to be what I thought it would be? What I left emptier than when I arrived?

I shifted nervously in the passenger seat, stealing anxious glances at my husband as we got off the highway and entered the lively city of Portland.

We couldn’t check into our AirBnB right away so after grabbing some lunch, we decided to drive to the Eastern Promenade. I had read prior to arriving that the view from there was worth seeing.

When I stepped out of the car, feeling tired from our early morning flight and excited over the prospect of a new adventure, my breath hitched in my throat.

The view from the Eastern Promenade hill wasn’t just worth seeing, it was spectacular.

My eyes were hungry to drink it all and I walked toward it like getting closer to the bay could somehow put back together again what felt broken within.

I stood in awe of Casco Bay, filled with far-off islands, sailboats sailing in and out, and a blue sky that spanned over blue water that seemed to stretch on forever and ever.

I remember thinking that if this is a fraction of what heaven’s like, then I will feel right at home.

Then I want more of whatever this is.

The week that followed was pure magic and I realize now that the longing I woke to 4 years ago to travel to this enchanted place wasn’t random. It was God-given.

I got to go kayaking in the ocean, catch lobsters (and eat them), visit lighthouses, sail on a sailboat, and walk the cobbled, quaint streets of New England as I learned their rich history.

God met me in Maine in such a way that brings tears to my eyes and causes my soul to soar with joy. I experienced a peace that was nothing short of a heaven-sent gift. He carried me that week, loved on me, met me where I was, and took my worn-out, weary soul and made me feel whole again.

It’s been exactly 65 days since I first laid eyes on that view from the Eastern Promenade hill that somehow shifted my heart and changed my life.

And I hold a dream in my heart to return again, to find God there again, to feel truly at home once more.