Monday, August 22, 2011
Last night after Grover went to sleep, my friend from Portland sent me a text in response to a panicked text I sent to him about all the pressure I'm under right now. The text simply said: "Breathe. Go outside & look at the Milky Way; I'm looking at it right now."
I went down to my dock with a blanket wrapped around me. I didn't look up until I was settled on the dock, facing where I knew the fuzzy band of the Milky Way would be... I closed my eyes first, listening.
Sounds trickled into my awareness slowly, then gaining volume. The lapping of the water against the dock gently rocked me. The voices of snickering children heading to their bunks for the night floated lazily across the cove from MDA camp. A duck or two that swam softly, but not silently near the shore ruffled their feathers in a flurry of urgency. Frogs called amphibious love songs back and forth, though I'm sure the mocking tone I was sure I heard was my own insertion.
The smell of seaweed and salt, and wet rocks were comforting in their familiarity, but from somewhere, the smell of lilies tainted the air; out of place mingled with the scent of the saltwater bay.
Finally I lie back and open my eyes, straining at first, then seeing it; the magical sprinkling of the Milky Way spread across the sky like so much salt tossed over the shoulder of God. I marveled at the beauty of it and was reminded how, in spite of all trials and worries, God is still good. I am who and where I am supposed to be. And I am thankful...
If you can be thankful at the end of the day, you will have whatever strength you need to get through tomorrow. ~RR