Salt-Water and Barnacles

I sit perched on a jagged rock, five feet above the waves that crash at my dangling feet.  The white barnacles cling to the rock, and the green sea anemones suction their bodies to the crevasse that protects them.  I watch a pelican swoop for an unsuspecting fish, hear the pounding waves all around me and the smell of salt water infuses my nose.  There is something about this massive space of sea in front of me that is so mysterious, so beautiful, so curious that I just try to soak it in.  How does the sand know where to lie?  And the waves know where to stop?  Who taught the barnacles to cling?  And the pelicans...of course they would have those long beaks, exactly what they need to hunt with for a meal.
I feel a bit like Job at the moment when God interrupts his bantering and reminds him of who placed the stars in the sky and continued to give him a little lesson of Who is so omniscient, so omnipotent, so perfect, and how small yet precious we are to Him.  
My heart echoes Job's response as I sit her:  "No plan of yours can be thwarted" (Job 42:6).