Promise

Yesterday I took my first morning walk to the water’s edge after being away for a couple of weeks. The water was completely smooth, some say like glass, but it looked softer than that. Its texture was warm and welcoming. The newly risen sun created golden highlights. Picture perfect.

A dolphin crested the surface no more than 20 feet from the shoreline, causing a giant smile to cross my face. The morning so quiet that I could hear her puff of air every time she surfaced. Graceful, steady, effortlessly swimming towards the bayou.

It’s my hope every morning to see a dolphin, and this is the first one I’ve seen in 2025. Thrilled would be an understatement.

My reaction may seem overdone, but dolphins hold great meaning to me. They are a symbol of promise. A real sign that my prayers are heard. A reminder to have faith and to trust. And an elegant symbol of peace. A connection to the deep down truths I hold sacred.

I’ve been lucky enough to spend many summer trips and now a lot of life along the coast. And over the course of those years as much as I’ve found joy, I’ve also walked the shoreline in worry, in pain, in fear and in shame. I’ve cried tears in the cover of the crashing of waves and begged desperately for answers to prayers.

And in moments I can only describe as liminal, magical, sacred, a dolphin has surfaced. The up and down arch of her back somehow a certainty of promise. I have felt it deep in my soul. And those promises have held true. Many times in ways I never imagined. But they did. And the dolphin was there. And I was comforted.

It’s sometimes hard to hold onto promise. Our lives and the world can drag us deep down. There is pain, there is worry, there is fear, there is sorrow, there is shame. And sometimes it’s just really hard.

But today I offer this:

I hope my dolphin sighting is a reminder to you that peace will prevail, even if just in our hearts. That our prayers are heard. That we are loved and that answers will come. And that above all else, you are not alone.