Water

I get lost in awe and wonder gazing over water. Raging rivers and calming streams. Glassy lakes or choppy waters. Churning oceans and crystal clear seas. Lapping waves and pounding surf. Exquisite beauty in the smallest details. Majesty in limitless potential. Glory in raw, unbridled power. Recklessness in its unknown. Safety in rhythm and sequence. Consistency in changes.

I've sat for hours watching energetic waves engage the rocky shore where I grew up in the Caribbean, as I deeply engaged my own feelings. I cried salty tears as the salty spray chilled my barefoot feet and legs as it splashed. I found comfort in watching another entity, albeit water, expressing what my heart could not speak.

Walking, rollerblading and running miles upon miles beside Lake Michigan in downtown Chicago, the water kept me company. Sometimes it was a brilliant sapphire. Other times murky grey or glacial green-blue. Misty, hazy  hues were a favorite in early mornings or late evenings. When internally my world was chaotic and stressed, I found solace in or near the water.

Blustery, bitter-cold days, when no one seemed to care or see my pain, the freezing wind along the the beach allowed my voice to scream out in the emptiness to God, yearning for closeness, and finding warmth in his presence when all else was distant.

Days with icy stillness elicited passion in my heart as I listened to the crystal-clear clinking of ice shards, imperceptibly moving with the motion that evaded my eyes gaze. If such delicate beauty and clarity could develop in harsh conditions, then so my soul could take courage when nothing seemed to be moving. I could risk doing less. Simply be. Let God's unseen hand create the simple yet unrivaled-of-harmonies in my life that I, in that moment could not hear. 

On a recent morning run, I felt compelled to silence my podcast, stop my timer, and walk across the parking lot and pause on the sand along Lake Michigan. Grey-tan waves tossed themselves onto the sand, first with a rumble as it hit the receding wave. Then the whoosh as it overpowered it. Then an almost-silent hiss as it glided over the coarse sand towards me.

Oh, to be lost here forever gazing upon miles of water, cherishing the solitude.

Here beside this vast, power-laden waters, hung a few small, delicate ice-stalactites. The powerful waves did not reach them. But their mist did. Few would notice these tiny art displays hidden off the path, away from the water and any passerbys out near the shore on a chilly, windy, 30 degree day.

My awe grew. And as I took in the power and art around me, something broke inside and emotions began washing over me. Past, sad memories. Countless goodbyes. Cold shoulders. Embarrassing social and cultural faux pas. Pain pumped out as my heart beat slowed.

My hurt at first wanted a companion in the cold waves like many the times before today. Yet this time, I knew that watery companionship isn't what I needed. Unlike in previous times, I knew needed to feel my own pain, and not project and wash it off into the murky water.

The real pounding water was inside. Could I allow myself to simply feel the tears? To allow the hurts of bygone years surface? To let new connections have a chance, and not brush over them? Yes. Swoosh.

Could I let the external water take on new meaning and purpose? Instead of using water to be a mirror of my agonies, could I use it's fluidity to embrace and soothe these bruised parts of me? Yes. Swish.

Could I allow the churning, aching water inside of me to simply be, and eventually stand still and let others see into it? Could they listen to my orchestra of fears gently clinking in my heart, trusting that even the ice chips of fear inside will thaw and bring glory to God in His timing? Yes! Slosh.

I may not have felt like I could let the waves of pain come, yet it was comforting to allow them, to simply be and experience myself. And I felt stronger than I had before. I felt more like those crystal stalactites, that somehow God had gently, quietly, without pomp and circumstance, built me a bit stronger and longer with each wave. Not moving or breaking with the wind and waves. Just being added to, and grown. I've been complete -yet I still am growing.

There is a reason I am deeply drawn to water. I may not have the words to express my craving for water or people's comforting presence and I struggle to find words for the deepest of my hungers. Yet I don't need to find the words. Or do. I get to simply be.

Oh to be lost forever like this, gazing into acceptance, and basking in warm embraces.

Living water flows in and around

Though it feels safer to watch from dry ground.

I can't stand the power, there's far to much,

Yet He will not let go. I'm safe in his clutch.