Last winter, on my 29th birthday, I wanted to reach another goal and check another dream off my bucket list by the time I turned the big 3-0. I spent a few weeks considering what goal would be worth pursuing based on my interests and values.
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This fall I am on the home stretch of a goal to read through the Bible in one year. I wrapped up the Old Testament during the dog days of summer, which gave me a new perspective on persistence in patience, and am finally reading the good news in the fresh air of fall. Wrapping up the Old Testament during the dog days of summer and reading the good news in the freshness fall brings. It has been a joy to read of new life and new freedom in the new season.
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“Did you use your eyeballs?” I respond when my husband can’t find something and asks if I’ve seen it. He’s a good sport to go back, look more thoroughly and usually returns with the found object. We laugh that he can never see what is right under his nose.
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As I read through the book of Genesis, my heart would speed up when I came across a woman’s name. I was inspired by faith’s forefathers, but was eager to hear how women participated in establishing our faith foundation.
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We often think of sanctuaries as sacred buildings adorned with stained glass, but sanctuaries are any place we can retreat for refuge and renewal. Any space that speaks to our souls and places us in a posture of reverence can be a sanctuary.
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There is magic in a marsh sunset, when the water mirrors the sky above. I can watch the water, looking for ripples of movement to reveal the wildlife under the surface while admiring wispy clouds swirling overhead. And I can witness the water and sky as one, the water working to reflecting much bigger blue above.
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I’ve been spending many of my summer evenings at the river, swimming in the salty marsh river near my home in coastal Georgia. Before I jump in, I watch the water. The current flows confident and trusts the tides to continually flow. I want to enter the flow. I want to feel the flow on my skin. I want, even more, to feel the flow in my soul. I want to enter a flow state.
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I lean my head back, spread out my arms and legs and allow the water to softly suspend me on the surface. I’m not swimming, forcing forward motion, or treading water, barely keeping my head above water. I’m floating: free to rest, be still and simply be. I welcome the weightlessness and wonder why I don’t float more often. Floating, in the water and out in the world, both takes faith and renews my faith. And I’m beginning to believe faith is a float.
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As someone who loves the water, the baptismal brought familiar comforts. The gentle pressure of the water hugged me and wrapped the robe around my body and legs. I submerged into the silence and emerged to the words, “raised to walk in newness of life.”
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If there is ever a time to be holy, it’s during Holy Week. It’s a time to repent and reflect on the most transformative week in history. We respond to the week with remembrance and reverence. But before we approach the week with efforts to attain our highest level of holiness, we need to reflect on our call to holiness: not only what it means to be holy, but how we are to be holy.
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Since I’m impatient with a pen in my hand, I have created my own flowy shorthand. It’s efficient and even fun to dash down a symbol and carry on. I particularly relish the swoops and loops of the ampersand I use in place of “and” in all my writing.
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From where I stood, looking over the salt marsh near my home to see the vast night sky, the two planets nearly touched. Jupiter and Saturn, the two biggest worlds in our solar system, aligned and were closer than they had ever been in 400 years.
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