For all the world, it started out to be a long-anticipated kind of day. My hubby was going with me to cover a story over in Lake County, then we were basically going to run away from home.

Our plan was to go over to Ludington after I took pictures at a ground-breaking ceremony. There, our plan would be hatched and have legs. Away we’d go. Head for the lighthouse.

Well, there’s our plan. And, then again, there’s reality. Usually the two are quite different. My plan usually doesn’t fluctuate much. For two days, I knew what an absolutely wonderful, marvelous day we were about to have and how we could replay it in our memories for a long, long time.

Not. Or at least it appeared to be on the verge of not.

Oh, step one was wonderful. We visited with friends, got the pictures and headed west. As we approached our destination, the weather started to look rather iffy. A few miles more to the west and the weather started to look two steps beyond iffy.

The wind picked up. The rain started. Inside, I quietly fumed. Why, I asked myself. Just why? I sensed somewhere deep in the “out there” the response was, “And why not?”

The rain spattered a bit more noisily, but I determinedly kept right on driving. I had the mailman’s code or slogan or whatever it is bouncing in my mind: neither rain nor snow, nor whatever and whatever was going to ruin this good time. I meant it. Or else.

So we continued on to the west. Got to Ludington. Now, understand, neither of us felt like eating a big meal in a nice, fancy place.

We’d already stopped in Lake County for a nice, fancy chicken salad sandwich. Unfortunately, we had to put it on hold so I wouldn’t be late for my photo shoot. An hour later, I was almost afraid to eat it for fear of getting sick after it had been penetrated with heat for well over an hour, maybe nearly two.

We solved that. Prayed. Ate the sandwich. We were half a mile from the photo shoot. Didn’t get sick, but guess what, by the time we got to Ludington we both confessed we were not hungry. Supper was put on hold. Rain put our other plans on hold.

Then, just as suddenly, the sun started shining. We headed for the beach, then we headed for the lighthouse.

We were too late to tour the top, but we were right on time to see some awesome beauty from way out on the pier.

It was so neat. Pretty soon my mind was dancing along on the diamond-filled waves rolling in our way. I took picture after picture. We enjoyed the water and the boats, kayakers riding out to a point where perhaps they could see no shoreline, just right about where faith and trust must live.

A couple of couples happened by. Smiled at us holding hands. Both asked if we would like them to take our picture so we could be in one together.

I was surprised. We had been taking single shots of one another, and here were these neat people who just offered us, strangers, a kindness unanticipated. Together.

How neat.

So we headed back home. My heart felt light. My burdens grew smaller. As we drove we both remembered at nearly the same time we still needed another feeding, and so we picked up food and ate. At home.

But that didn’t dampen the spirit of that day, those moments, that sunshine, and the lake’s diamonds, the storm moving in, us moving on.

It was good. It was very good, this time together. We had our plans tossed among the waves of the day, and yet, the beauty of all we had can never be washed away. The day was without a plan beyond the photo shoot, ours anyway. His? Turned it into a thing of beauty. Not as I planned it. Nor we. Hey. Thanks. And amen.