The Calm in the Storm

The dishwasher is broken.
But I kind of find the hot, sudsy water soothing and my hands find joy in the simple task of scrubbing, swishing, and rinsing.

Later in the day, I'm relishing in the glory of a steamy, long shower (the only space that guarantees privacy) and I'm enjoying the fact that kids are cooperating and not banging on the door and disturbing my solitude.  The next minute, I find myself in the opened front doorway, dripping wet and wrapped in a towel, YELLING down the street at my children (namely my four year old) who headed out for an impromptu walk.

My life seems kind of bipolar... up and down; like a teeter totter.  Praises and joy on my lips one second, panic and frustration blurted out the very next moment.

And the greatest manifestation of peace comes in an unexpected place: waiting in the van for my little girls as they attend a monthly group piano lesson.  They told me that some of the other moms would be inside, drinking tea and socializing.  I told them I'd rather be alone... quiet, reading, thinking...

So I sat in the van, with absolutely no urge to turn on the radio or look at my smart-phone.  There was no need to fill the space with activity, information; noise.  Instead I sat, breathed deep and stared out a cracked windshield as the gentle rain blurred my view.

He comes in the calm.  He breathes life in the stillness.

The pitter patter of raindrops were a musical balm to my over-worked, stressed and over-stimulated emotions.  Not even the most poetic melody or stirring symphony could have been a sweeter sound to my ears.  He played His love song to me, a simple reminder: I AM.

No matter the busyness, trials or worries; if I'm up one moment and down the next - it really doesn't matter. 

He finds me when I hide from the rest of the world.

Drops of water for a thirsty, parched soul. 

Caught in the Current

When I was 11 or 12, I took a dare to swim across the river in my city.  It was summertime, so the water-level wasn't overly high, but there would still be a relatively strong current and a good patch in the middle where my feet wouldn't be able to touch the ground.

The river had carved out a valley, a quite solitude in the midst of a busy metropolis.  The hills were dried and yellow from the blazing summer skies, but down in the val, ley, it was cooler and the soil was rich and the trees were well watered and flourishing.  I squinted up at the sky, at wisps of cotton candy clouds and the sort of blue that makes you feel both serene and imaginative all at the same time.  My cut-off jean shorts were already wet, strings of frayed white threads dripping cool water down my tanned legs.

With a hearty splash, my brother forged ahead of me: dutifully proving his bravery and leadership in our outdoor pursuits.  I watched as he waded deeper and deeper into the water, the force of the river causing him to lean and then yelp as he was overcome by the current, now fully committed to swimming to the other side with a strong front crawl.

After being pulled downstream somewhat, the water became more shallow, and he found his footing on the slippery river rocks.  He tumbled, sopping wet, out of the water on the opposite bank of the river and beckoned to me to hurry and join him.

My upbringing never led me to be sheltered or shy or overly cautious.  I only hesitated for a moment before moving deeper into the water.  I looked down at the clean, rushing water and the muted green, gray, tan and pink rocks beneath me.  My feet felt icy cold but the water was refreshing on this hot summer day as the sun shone bright on my bare arms and dark hair.  I slipped on a slimy rock for a moment, the current getting stronger and throwing me off balance and I stubbed my toe.  "Ouch!" I whimpered to myself, but with a steel jaw I gritted my teeth, intent on moving forward and passing this test of summer bravery.

As the water moved up my legs, past my calves, licking at my knees and then immersing my thighs, I felt a chilly thrill of excitement.   It was to the point where I had to lean into the current, ever so mindful of my steps, so I wouldn't slip and plunge fully into the water.  Finally, it was too much... I had to fully commit myself to the adventure, and I dove into the water with my whole body and began to swim.

It seemed easy, at first.  I had taken swimming lessons throughout my childhood and was a strong swimmer.  By my little muscles were no match for the ferocious current.  With my head bobbing on the surface and my feet barely grazing the rocks below me, I felt myself being carried downstream.

It is the loss of control that terrifies.  There comes many a moment in life where everything seems to rush in and surround you, and you are simply treading water; a clear sky above you, taunting you, while frightening cold water immerses you from the neck down.  The world began to pass before my eyes as I watched the shoreline with my brother standing and waiting move out of my sight and I was caught in the current, heading downstream.

I fought with everything inside of me and settled my sights on some trees on the seemingly distant shore.  My arms moved frantically, my legs fluttered and I gulped deep breaths of air as I struggled to keep my chin out of the water.  Desperation and panic prompted my legs and arms to continue their fight against the power of the water.

Then my feet met the bottom and I stumbled my way to more shallow water.  My heart pounded with the adrenaline and I felt instant relief at the solid ground beneath me.  With each wobbly step forward, the sun kissed my goosebumped skin, the river water making little rivulets of water from my long hair down my back.

Sometimes life's responsibilities bring me back to my river experience; that place of panicked uncertainty where you must keep your eyes on the distant horizon and plunge forward with all your might.  One thing I remember about that summer day, was a quiet moment when I was struggling in the middle of the river.  I tilted my head up towards the sky, my body nearly fully immersed with even my ears underwater and filled with the river's roar.  In that moment, the light of the sun beamed upon my nose, my forehead and my cheeks and even though the river was carrying me downstream, the glorious radiance of the sun upon my face was restorative and strengthening.

Life's messes scream at us, demanding our attention.  Sometimes you just need to tilt your head up and behold the power of the light.

This is just how I feel...

My heart is so soft now I think I could almost describe it as squishy. Ha ha... and maybe a little bit broken, too.
I have a heightened awareness of how precious my kids are. I find myself almost wanting to wake them up at night; I'll be overcome by a panic attack, feeling like I didn't love them enough while they were awake.
I just want to get on with my life, but I also feel horrible and don't want to ever forget about my sweety that will never walk on this side of life. I'm trying to picture heaven and wonder what life is like for my baby there.
Right now, the positive thing that I can be thankful for is how much more I love my kids and husband. I'm thankful for a heart that is sensitive to life around me and that I find it so much more precious now.
Yet I'm finding life a lot more exhausting right now. I don't want to keep thinking or writing about anything else right now because it hurts too much.