I saw the lily pads in the water. The radiant white flowers turned their faces to the sun. The dragonflies slid back and forth across the tops with ease. The wind had the force of a baby’s coo. The water held the leaves with gentle reverence. It was a perfect morning on the lake. I waded into the carpet of lily pads to take a picture of the white flowers. After struggling with that assignment, I headed back to shore.
A shiny, silver pool flickered as my wake caused the frond to undulate. Like a little bead of mercury dancing in a science lab, a droplet of water scuttled across the green surface. It moved like a dancer, barely touching the surface. I was mesmerized. I stopped and watched. I made movements in the water. I tried over and over again to see if I could get it to stand right in the middle, but each time it scooted away, right to the edge of the center yellow spot. The drop was never diminished. It never broke apart. It seemed to move with ease unconcerned and untouched by the plant.
The last five months have plunged so many people into darkness and pain. Isolation and self-harm are on the rise. Abuse has been reported more frequently. Despair has saturated so many people’s lives. We are not like drops of water on a lily pad. We can’t skip through life untouched by the pain, struggles and difficulty surround us. No, we have all been touched by the pain. Sometimes, I wish I could be like that drop of water, but the hurt around us is so real that I feel like I leave part of my self behind and my drop keeps getting smaller.
I have had to develop new routines, new pathways of self-awareness and care to be able to thrive in our new world. I have altered my eating and my exercise. I have reached out, way more often, to my ministers accountability group and our small group has become so much more vital to be able to check in with others. Still, we keep finding people who have fallen through the cracks, people who have slid away and we are all grieving losses.
I have heard people talking about it, getting back to normal, but I don’t think we are ever going back, because you cannot travel through this land untouched. God says, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you” (Isaiah 43:2). I don’t want to go through life detached and unfeeling, but I’m clinging to God’s promises that He is with me on this journey. Sometimes, all I have are the slight pressure of His fingers on my shoulders reminding me that He is touched by my pain.