Stand.
When I was little. I practiced swimming between my mom and her friend Sarah at the beach. I remember that we were in the bay, where the waves were no more than 3 feet tall, and the current was strong enough to push me around, but not really strong enough to pull me away. Besides, I knew then as I know now, my mom was there, and she would get me out of the wave if it got to unsafe for me.... She could still touch. Very important things in the eyes of a 6 year old.
As I swam back towards my mom, a wave hit me... and I remember clearly opening my eyes in it, it looked like what I would imagine a washing machine does, all noise and dark churning. And I rolled and rolled, knowing I should come up but unable to push myself to the surface.... when the wave stopped, I thrashed and panicked.... I was paralyzed with the knowledge of incoming death.
When clear as day, I heard ... STAND UP.
So I moved my feet beneath me. And I stood. In 3 feet of Water, 50 feet down the shore from my mom. Alone and close at the same time... and no where near enough to tell me that the water was shallow enough to stand.
I spend an inordinate amount of time wrestling with God. I have never been a passive believer, I somehow doubt, I have ever been a passive anything. I fight over little things, big things, things that I can't change, things that I can. I spend the rest of my time, holding tightly to the things that are good in my life...
More often than not, life these days feel like I am back on that beach, swimming slowly back and forth between parents. One there and one unseen, all the while holding on to all the good things in my life, and feeling an awful lot like the good things, things that are supposed to help me float in the sea, have such a hold on me that I am slowly losing my buoyancy and I am moved by life's waves... those things that I value so much, they seem to be killing me. But I fear deeply that if I ask for help, if I ask someone to hold my good things, all my treasures, they won't be valued, that somehow they will be thrown away or worse yet, given to someone more worthy of them. Stuck at a crossroads, I pray desperately that I might be able to keep what is mine. Even as my treasures get broken and wrenched away by my own inability to care for them in the waves. Slowly, I swim on, when the distance seems to keep growing between me and a person who can touch.
I felt myself get knocked around this week, and for a few moments, I was tossed in the waves, all darkness and noise, churned and whipped around. Recognizing that I am speck in the face of an angry ocean. Rolled through the waves... and when it came to a stop, I was scared and angry and feeling a sense of clarity that only happens to me on occasion: one day, I will be unable to swim and these good things... the hopes that I carry with me, they will eventually drown me. I can't swim holding on to the past, present and future, hopes, dreams and realities.... Swimming seems to be take all the muscles god gave me.
So I let things go.... I thrashed and panicked and waited for the inevitable feeling of sinking and as I sunk below the water. Sadness (but I loved it). fear, (please, please don't take this from me) panic (I am nothing without it)
Until a voice, familiar to me, told me to stand.
My feet stretch, my body turning, my toes feeling for a rocky bottom.
I stand.
As I swam back towards my mom, a wave hit me... and I remember clearly opening my eyes in it, it looked like what I would imagine a washing machine does, all noise and dark churning. And I rolled and rolled, knowing I should come up but unable to push myself to the surface.... when the wave stopped, I thrashed and panicked.... I was paralyzed with the knowledge of incoming death.
When clear as day, I heard ... STAND UP.
So I moved my feet beneath me. And I stood. In 3 feet of Water, 50 feet down the shore from my mom. Alone and close at the same time... and no where near enough to tell me that the water was shallow enough to stand.
I spend an inordinate amount of time wrestling with God. I have never been a passive believer, I somehow doubt, I have ever been a passive anything. I fight over little things, big things, things that I can't change, things that I can. I spend the rest of my time, holding tightly to the things that are good in my life...
More often than not, life these days feel like I am back on that beach, swimming slowly back and forth between parents. One there and one unseen, all the while holding on to all the good things in my life, and feeling an awful lot like the good things, things that are supposed to help me float in the sea, have such a hold on me that I am slowly losing my buoyancy and I am moved by life's waves... those things that I value so much, they seem to be killing me. But I fear deeply that if I ask for help, if I ask someone to hold my good things, all my treasures, they won't be valued, that somehow they will be thrown away or worse yet, given to someone more worthy of them. Stuck at a crossroads, I pray desperately that I might be able to keep what is mine. Even as my treasures get broken and wrenched away by my own inability to care for them in the waves. Slowly, I swim on, when the distance seems to keep growing between me and a person who can touch.
I felt myself get knocked around this week, and for a few moments, I was tossed in the waves, all darkness and noise, churned and whipped around. Recognizing that I am speck in the face of an angry ocean. Rolled through the waves... and when it came to a stop, I was scared and angry and feeling a sense of clarity that only happens to me on occasion: one day, I will be unable to swim and these good things... the hopes that I carry with me, they will eventually drown me. I can't swim holding on to the past, present and future, hopes, dreams and realities.... Swimming seems to be take all the muscles god gave me.
So I let things go.... I thrashed and panicked and waited for the inevitable feeling of sinking and as I sunk below the water. Sadness (but I loved it). fear, (please, please don't take this from me) panic (I am nothing without it)
Until a voice, familiar to me, told me to stand.
My feet stretch, my body turning, my toes feeling for a rocky bottom.
I stand.
posted by Shanelle at 4:08 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home