at water's edge

It seems like I'm in a season of invitation to surrender, let go, and trust.  To let life flow, and not resist the flow.  The opposite of flowing is resisting and not being ok with what life brings.  When I resist I fight the waves that come, I brace myself against the unknown, tensing my body, my mind and my soul against what I perceive as danger.

We live near the ocean.  My boys love to go to the beach, and there are weeks when we make it there five days out of seven.  Growing up in Oklahoma, my comfort level in the ocean is nowhere near these two boys who run out into the waves with arms outstretched.  I watch from my safe beach spot as they run head on into the crashing waves.  The days when the ocean is calm, I dare to venture in with them.  But on these evenings when the ocean waves are high (as high as their heads) I watch in wonder.  These boys get pummeled by the waves.  Sometimes the waves knock them down, sometimes they crash over their heads and yet they remain standing.  Sometimes the boys get their boogie boards and ride the waves in.  The ocean is never dull, that is for sure.  I am always amazed to sit and watch the power and beauty of water.

When we lived in Laos we observed the Mekong River.  On one side was Laos, and on the other side was Thailand.  Unlike the ocean, we really couldn't get into the river.  It was dark brown, murky waters coming from China.  While a lot of the brown was probably from the red soil beneath, I doubt that is all that the river was bringing our way.  When the monsoons came we watched the river swell to fill the large gap between Laos and Thailand's banks and the waters passed quickly by.  The Lao were afraid of the river--with good reason.  But they respected it.  We learned to respect the river as well.  I love the sight of water, but I rarely stepped into the river.  We saw many beautiful sunsets over the vast horizon of the river.  It was a place of beauty and a reminder that we weren't just living in a big endless sprawl of a city.  The city had an end at the river's edge.

And then there are creeks.  I love creeks.  I grew up in Oklahoma where creeks were a childhood delight.  We would make our way to Colorado in the summer and the cold mountain water would become a child's invitation to play.  Taking my shoes and socks off I would dip my feet into the cold water.  But the nice thing about a creek is it is usually shallow on the edges.  And you can see the bottom.  Of course, if you venture in you better be careful or you might slip on a rock!

Water is a symbol used in many cultures and religions.  It symbolizes cleansing, renewing, baptism, life.  Babies are held in water until they enter our dry world.  Water flows through our veins.  And water is what we need to sustain our lives.  As I write this I am aware of being thirsty (where is my cup of water?!)   Water invites us to step in.  As I sit on the water's edge there is something in me that wants to step in, to feel the water, to let it cool me, refresh me, take me out beyond the dullness of my controlled life.  But often our response is hesitation and resistance.  We find excuses.  I don't want to get wet! I just washed my hair, I don't want it to get salty! I have clothes on, I forgot to wear my swimsuit.  I am afraid because the waves look scary.  Sitting here is safe (and yes, a bit boring).  But what has happened?  The children are still running in, excited to feel the waves crash into them.  I am always in awe when a big wave pushes my youngest son down.  Usually he gets back up with a smile on his face--"give me more!"--he seems to be saying!  Boring? Not at all.

But fear--it doesn't want to get up out of the place of safety.  Fear is like the dam that keeps the raging river controlled.  It resists the natural flow of water, holding it back.  But the pressure of the dam is high.  The waters press into the dam with force that requires the dam to be stronger.
But sometimes I am weary of the dam.  I need the flow of the water.  The healing flow of saying yes to what is natural.  To trust that I can let go and step in and I will be ok.  I don't have to brace myself against the flow.  Let the river flow.  Let the waves come and crash into me.  I may fall down, but I can get back up.  Is that the sound of laughter and life that I hear?  Is that the sound of letting go and saying yes?