The group assignment was to take a 20 minute walk together. Enroute, we were to find something that depicts our life at the moment, and tell the group about it afterward.
I knew right away what my symbol would be. When we walked over the little bridge, I left the group and jumped/skidded down the creek bank. With a branch, I fished out a rock half the size of my fist. It glistened a deep reddish brown in my hand.
The analogy breaks down really fast, because I don’t want to be a hard, cold stone. The point of my analogy was that water smooths the roughness and brings out the deeper colors of the stone.
Whenever we walk on the beach in Ireland, we find lovely shells and put them in our pockets. But when we get home, the shells are never as pretty as they were when we found them. The water, in the place they belong, is what makes the shells beautiful.
In a blog post last week, Ann Voskamp said
A photographer had once told me, “You’ll find you will capture some of your best photographs on a grey, wet day. Want glowing, deep colors? Wait for rain.”
Do our tears saturate, intensify the colors of our lives?
Do we begin to see all as gift, when we stare face to face with losses?
Do we only begin to see when the eyes of our hearts are washed clean with tears?
I am beginning to see that in the design of the Master, running water smooths, beautifies, enhances the creation as well as the heart. And then I got a lovely message from someone very dear to me who recently walked through huge disappointment. She also found beauty from water:As we walked we came upon a stream under a stone bridge. The leaves under the water were bright like they were made of light, and just seeing that beauty gave some healing.
I know it’s true. Water soothes, smooths, brightens, gives life and beauty. I want to learn to joy in the rain outside and in my soul, instead of trying to avoid it.