Watching water — it’s not something you hear very often. Not like watching paint dry or a watched pot never boiling, both of which have negative connotations. But watching water is one of the quickest ways to restore and calm my spirit. It’s right up there with staring into my fireplace and watching the flames dance.
Back to the water. I’m not sure if its roots are in my childhood. We lived across from Lake Nipissing in North Bay, Ontario, and the way my mom tells it (since I don’t remember — I was still in my car seat), during the summer she would take us kids across the road. My mom and sisters played in the water while I sat in my car seat, set just deep enough for the waves to splash me. I’d get wet, cool off, and have fun too — all while staying safe in my car seat.
We’d wait for Dad to come home from work. He’d put on his trunks and play with us kids until dinner and bedtime. She has told that story so often I feel as though I remember it, but I know it’s just that she paints such a good picture.
Or maybe the roots of my love of water come from the drives home from Manitoulin Island, crammed into a car with too many people as we took our friends from the south to check out this amazing island. On the way home, we’d stop at Bridal Veil Falls and swim right under the rushing water as it fell into the lake. Or we’d stop every 15 minutes at a different beach, just to cool off enough to squeeze 10 people back into the seven-passenger van. (It really was a different time — we didn’t think much of it. Remember, these were the days when kids could ride in the back of a station wagon or in the bed of a pickup truck. You wouldn’t catch us doing either of these nowadays.)[C1]
Well, I have no idea what the root is. I just know that as I sit here in Greece, staring at water as still as glass, my heart rate slows and my breathing steadies. I become contemplative, relaxed, and at peace.
That’s a lot like Jesus, isn’t it? Or at least who He wants to be in my life.
The peace bringer.
But in my day-to-day busyness, I so often miss it — I mean, Him. I forget to pause and look for Him. To look for Him while I’m stuck in traffic, watching the ETA on my GPS go up instead of down. To look for Him when my plans get interrupted and I don’t get my way. And to look for Him when I’m happy and content with how things are going.
So I sit here and watch the water, praying for it to be a reset button. Praying this object lesson embeds itself in my mind. Praying for what I don’t even know or understand, but praying that this feeling in my chest comes home with me.
It’s better than any souvenir I could ever buy. Better yet, His peace is free for me, because He paid it all.
