Hold fast to the steadfast

I feel like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz today: “My goodness! People come and go so quickly here!” In just the past few days I’ve experienced:

• a visit with my daughter and her husband,
• the arrival of a bevy of day camp counselors,
• the death of a friend’s father,
• the departure of some college students usually in my orbit,
• people returning from vacation
• people leaving for vacation,
• the arrival of a new co-worker,
• the end of one camp and the start of another,
• a visiting dog
• the unexpected gift of an orchid lei from across the ocean.

I wonder what effect all this coming and going has on all of us. It is exciting, to be sure. Is it healthy? I’m not certain – but it must be at least as healthy as never going anywhere! It certainly helps us be aware, and appreciate, that only God is steadfast.

People come, people go; I come and go, but God is ever steadfast. My time zone, or state, or continent is of no consequence to God. Like air, like water, God is simply there. Never sleeping, never traveling, never absent nor away, God waits, steadfastly, for me to notice.

If we look for God, like sailors navigating by the stars, wherever we may find ourselves, we can orient ourselves by looking for God. In this crazy tornado of a week I have spotted God in so many places:

• in the sun rising over the lake
• in the passionate heart of a young person
• in the unconditional love of a child (and a dog)
• in kindnesses shown between people
• in the forgiveness of my sins
• in the synergy of a group of people at work
• in the stubborn grasp of a flower growing through a crack in a rock
• in the music of the blues mass
• in the words on the page of a good book

Like the star that our planet revolves around, God is always there. Though I may spin on my own axis and experience periods of light and dark – God is steadfast, God is light, and God is my home where ever I may be. And, to quote Dorothy Gale a second time, “There’s no place like home”.

After tornados or travels or travails, come home. The steadfast One waits.

The Gulf of Mexico

I was 16 years old before I saw the ocean. While I had spent much of my childhood in the land of 10,000 lakes, visited the great lake they call Gitche-Gumee (Superior) and been to the source of the mighty Mississippi River and the Great Salt Lake, the ocean was still a whole new experience. It was the Pacific Ocean and the waves were big and the water was cold. I can barely describe the experience. It was amazing. Hypnotic. Cathartic. Holy. Later I would visit the Atlantic (both sides) and the Caribbean but my favorite salt water place is the Gulf of Mexico.

This can probably be attributed to a number of factors: the water temperature, proximity, familiarity, but I think mostly, it is because that is where I got to encounter the ocean with children. To see the ocean through a child's eyes is a wondrous thing. Chasing and being chased by water, digging down in the sand where an air hole appears, building castles and counting pelicans provide endless delights for a child. Searching for shells and examining jellyfish provide many opportunities to encounter life and death in the most natural of settings. The questions come faster than you can answer them: Where did it go? Why did it die? Is it in heaven? Where is the mommy fish? Who ate it? What was inside this shell? Why does it only have one foot? Why are those shells stuck to the boat?

At the water's edge, life and death are encountered in (for most kids) an impersonal and un-painful way. Dead fish wash ashore. Empty shells abound. Big fish eat little fish, birds pick the shore clean, and the waves roll in and out relentlessly. Nowhere can you find God's circle of life more clearly demonstrated than at the beach. Life and death are the BIG topics that get us to thinking about God. Try taking your kids to the beach this summer and think theologically for a bit!

Come on in, the water's deep but filled with life and joy!