The dark sky above, filled with ominous clouds, and the rolling, turbulent waves below, this voyage is far from peaceful. The vessel rocks violently from side to side and tips from bow to stern. I cling helplessly to anything I can touch. My emotions roil like the environment surrounding me: abandonment, fear, insecurity, total loss, self-resentment for the apparent bad decisions, loss of control. My baseline is horizontal, my eyes are fixed on the storm and the situation. Then I see it, in the distance, the first glimmer of hope, land. The skies seem to clear the closer I sail. Closer and closer, the small, insignificant speck of hope, grows to a full blown island. A small silhouette comes into focus, a figure stands on the beach, I realize it’s a man. His face comes into view, radiant and glorious. I can make out a smile as bright as the sun and his piercing eyes make contact with mine. I can’t seem to look away. The storm fades into the background and all I can see is Him. Slowly, so very slowly, my vessel nears the land. He wades out into the surf and catches the side of my boat. He turns and drags my vessel to shore, and beaches me. Turning back, He extends His hand. My trembling fingers grasp His hand and I take my first steps on to the land. His smile, if it’s possible, grows and His eyes sparkle like the universe. He opens his arms and invites me to embrace Him. I nearly fall into His arms. He welcomes me, he enfolds me, he strokes my hair, and gently, lovingly praises me. “Well done. You did so good. You came when you heard my voice. You faced the fear and came anyway. I’m so proud of you.” His words wash over me and all the pent up emotions release at once. I drop my head to His chest and I begin to sob. He lightly chuckles, and continues to stroke my head. He caresses me and comforts me. He lifts my chin with his finger and points to the island. “Come,” he says, “see what I have prepared for you!” I let my gaze move to the island and I take it all in… colors so vibrant they look unrealistic. Though I’ve been on this island before, I’m seeing it for the first time, with fresh eyes. The beauty is indescribable. “All of this is for you,” he says and breaks my trance. For me? I can’t comprehend that, what does that mean? Why this island? I turn to Him and without asking those questions, he answers. “Because,” he says, “this place isn’t finished yet. It’s expanding. It’s active, living. It’s a type of what I’m doin in you: Expanding you; Establishing you; Causing you to flourish. I won’t leave you dormant, eroding, or stagnant. That’s not life.” I’m aware that my baseline has shifted from horizontal pleading for relief, to vertical connections with God and to God. My heart feels lighter. The sense of loss is subsiding. There is no longer any regret, or fear, and I’m aware the heaviness has lifted. “The island is yours,” he says, “but the life it contains and gives is something others need. I need you to distribute this life to them. I’m counting on you.” Resolution to fulfill anything He asks of me fills my being. “When I called you, you opened your hand and released your grasp on what your life was in that place and what that life looked like and you gave it all to me. Don’t be afraid! It’s all in the plan. Don’t get your eyes on anything else. Stay focused – keep your eyes on me. Stay with me. You don’t need to be distracted. Trust me more than your uncertainty. Let go. Let me! Let me handle it! I’ve got you.”
Standing on the beach, I look to Him and He gives me a knowing look and gives me a nod. I’ve been carrying these weights so long, I no longer remember what it feels like to do life unencumbered. I hold in my hands multiple rocks, labeled with all the things I have been keeping close so I can try to control the hurt. I know what needs to happen, but it feels like an actual part of me is being severed and the pain is palpable. “Can I do this?” I ask. He looks into my eyes with compassion and understanding. “No,” he says flatly, “not alone you can’t … but you aren’t alone, love,” and He winks at me. He doesn’t utter another word, but without speaking, His gaze says, “Go on, you can do it” and he looks to the water. Deep breath. Sigh. I take the first tremulous steps toward the water’s edge. Taking the first rock into my right hand, I turn it over and read the label. This is a big one, the weight from carrying it is crushing. I inhale, draw my arm back, and throw as far as I can manage. Sploosh! Tears threaten to crest my bottom lashes, but I keep going. Taking the second rock, I repeat the process. Sploosh! Rock after rock, the load lightens, and so does my heart. He just stands beside me and offers His strength and support, nodding His approval with each release. The final rock leaves my grasp and I sigh. I turn to Him and he smiles, then strokes my hair and wraps His arm around my shoulder, turning to walk back up the beach. We sit in the sand in silence and watch the waves ebb and flow. Without warning, rain begins to fall and gently wash away all the past hurts and anger. My heart is healing even as we sit here in the rain. He whispers in my ear, “Sow righteousness for yourselves, reap the fruit of unfailing love, and break up your unplowed ground; for it is time to seek the Lord, until he comes and showers His righteousness on you” (Hosea 10:12). He shifts gaze skyward and the clouds part and glorious rays of sunshine stream through. Today is the first day of the new normal…
(this is the transcribed version of two real life moments and the journal entries that followed)
Blog Thoughts, Jody 