I stepped into the swirling water, though I don’t like swimming in the ocean. But this was a smaller pond, controlled, with an oh so comforting deck – like a pool. The rushing water swiftly carried me away from the shore. Dark shapes loomed at the edge of my vision. I turned my head. Huge, black, metal, goose-neck pipes thrust above the waves. Any pipe’s maw was big enough to swallow me in darkness. Every pipe’s side was hard enough so that the rushing waves might crush me against it. They were spread across the water, little space between them. I’ll be killed. The rushing waters pushed me towards closer and closer to the pipes. Suddenly, I was amid them, swerving between them like a pinball that had been swatted just right. Then I was on the other side, another deck in reach. I pulled myself out, began to hurry along the boardwalk to return to my starting point; that’s where I belonged. Something in the window of one of the shops caught my eye. I stopped to look. I changed my mind, Perhaps I stay here and explore. I opened my eyes to a new morning.
This too is resurrection on earth. The controlled sea change that feels impossible to survive and then there we are, alive and in a new place. A change of heart. A change of mind. A change that takes us so far from what we know ought to be but leaves us with enough curiosity, strength, joy, hope to explore new places, discover new hopes.
It’s preparation for a face-to-Face someday when change will be eternity. When what we are to be is revealed and we will be truly happy for all the practice in the rushing waters.
Every Friday,100s of bloggers set a timer, write for 5 minutes, and then publish the results. We don’t edit or engulf ourselves in concerns about whether our writing is worthy to be seen. We expose our incomplete, unpolished thoughts and words to each other and our readers. Our new home is at Kate Motaung’s blog, Heading Home. She provides a prompt on Thursday evening and we all link our posts there and tweet them with the hashtag #FMFParty. Join us.