When I’m ready to hear, I am really really ready. It often takes me a looong time to get there, though. But I do get there. Working on shortening that chasm of wasted time.
When moms or dads are sick, stories seem to magically resurface. We are very busy telling stories. I love when my mom laughs, and she’ll usually interject something I’ve long forgotten. We are a family of funny and precious recollections. I love that about us.
When I was little, I had summer after summer of swimming lessons. Most were in the pool at the local middle school, but one terrifying summer was at a lake near our house. It was there that I learned to dive.
Despite pleading, wheedling and outright begging, my mom would not give in. I was going to learn to dive. She wouldn’t give in to my fear. She wouldn’t let me give in to my fear.
The thing is, at the pool the water was clear, chlorinated and predictable. The lake water was dark, and had fish and sticks and stuff. AND it wasn’t heated. I mean really cold.
I couldn’t see the bottom, unlike the pool, so I had to believe the instructor when I, shivering and crying (I think) did dive, and trust that it was deep enough for me to go in safely.
Back then, I just wanted to know where the bottom was, and that I would be able to touch it when I needed to.
Life hasn’t changed that much for me. I still want to know where the ground is, and I still feel most secure when I’m touching bottom. But my life often feels like the lake water. Dark moments, sad moments, uncertain moments, scary moments that propel me to frantically search for level ground.
How deep is God anyway? I’ve asked that question through the years, as I wander through…whatever. Currently, “wandering” has uncertainty and unpredictability in the mix.
But I always come to the same conclusion…no matter how deep I dive, God is deeper still. No matter what path I am called to take, no matter what I do or don’t do, no matter what happens or doesn’t happen. No matter.
God is deeper still.