A year and a half ago we moved into our lake house. I had grown up on a lake, but had been landlocked for 30 years and I missed the water so much that I felt like I was just going to shrival up if I didn’t get back to it. So, I started driving around looking for slivers of silver, and I began searching web sites and real estate magazines for “waterfront” listings in our area. It took me 5 years to find a house on a lake that we could afford but finally I did. It is a simple 3 bedroom 2 bath home and I just love it!

To get to our home you have to drive over a small ridge. When you reach the very top of the ridge the view is breathtaking. You can see the lake with a mountain in the distance.  When God made it possible for us to buy the house I promised Him that I would thank Him every time I came over that ridge. And I do thank Him. At first I remembered every single time but now, sometimes I forget my prayer of thanks.

And I have to wonder at that. The view is the same; wonderful and miraculous. The only thing that’s changed is that I have gotten used to it.

Today, I rededicated myself to that promise of gratefulness. I decided that I absolutely will not miss that view or the chance to thank God for it. And today, when we topped that hill on the way home I asked myself. How many other beautiful things have I gotten accustomed to? How many miraculous things am I forgetting to wonder about?

And that’s exactly what I’ve decided to blog about, at least for a while. So…stay tuned.

I’ve just returned from a visit to my homeplace, the little town where I grew up…  a place that’s done quite a bit of growing up itself. I had some adventures there. I spent a day on the beach with my terrific husband. I walked my pug down to the lake where she tried to eat a mussel and was teased by the little waves. And I got to spend two evenings with my zany cousins.

And I am struck with the fact that though we are born with our very own personalities, where we grow up and who we grow up with becomes a part of us forever. I grew up on the water and almost felt I couldn’t breathe until I finally got back to it. My favorite pals and best friends were my cousins. We had adventures every time we were together … and still do. I was given the gift of a terrific mom who loved me completely and made me feel like anything was possible.

All these things made indentions and smooth places on the heart that I was born with, like a sculpturer’s polish…like an artist’s brush. And though the things that come into my life now might affect the shape of who I am, those early impressions and experiences are the things that have given me the color of my soul.

My yard looks like a giant carrot cake frosted with cream cheese. Last night the snow fairies dropped white sugar icing all over the limbs of the trees, the grass and the clay mud that is peeking out of a few places where the white is spread thin. Some of the tree branches are coated in clear ice and the sun makes them sparkle like chandeliers. I know the mud is still under there somewhere but it doesn’t matter. Today the world looks clean.

I want to be a buoy. I want to pop up and be a bright spot in the dark, roiling waters. Some people pull us up. Others pull us down…like fishing weights or sinkers. Even buoys can be pulled under if they have enough sinkers tied to them. When people are near me I hope I can find a way to lift them up, even if it is only a little.

I remember, not that long ago, looking up at the sky and sighing at the beauty of a flock of geese gracefully soaring across the blue, wondering where they were going and what they had seen, and in some small way feeling like, in that moment, I could soar too.

Then someone told me that geese are pests. They eat grass like goats and poop all over yards and golf courses. “Don’t feed geese,” they said, “You’ll never get rid of them.” And I have never looked at a gaggle of geese quite the same way.

How do we stop this from happening? How do we keep from losing the eyes of a child as we look at the amazing things in this world? How do we keep from becoming critical, bitter, old folks as we become more and more “educated” in “reality” with each passing year?

This morning I saw a flock of geese gliding above a silver lake and it took my breath away. Everything here that is beautiful has flaws but that doesn’t mean it isn’t beautiful.

In my October 15, 2007 blog I talked about learning how to ride the waves of life challenges instead of kicking against them.

And I am learning that the first step in doing this is to accept where I am. I have to be willing to look at the water around me and to say, “Yep, I’m in the ocean. And I’m in the choppy part.” 

I have no control over the waves. None. No control over how big they are or how fast they come at me and often no say in where they take me. The only thing I do have control over is how I respond to them. I can’t choose where I’ve been put in the ocean but I can decide how I’m going to swim.

For a very long time now I’ve worn myself out fighting the currents. I’ve kept swimming, kicking hard, looking for a calm spot. I’ve never found it because it isn’t in the water. The ocean is full of waves, some violent, others gentle and caressing. I will never be able to control the ocean, but I know the One who does, and He promises not to let me drown.

This morning when I looked out at the lake the sky was reflected so perfectly in the water that I could even see the shadows in the clouds.

The lake looked exactly like the sky-exactly.

For this to happen the water has to be especially calm and peaceful…

the way we need to be to reflect the glory of God. 

Most evenings when the sun is getting ready to climb into bed I get into my little yellow Ripper kayak and paddle out to a place where I can watch the sunset. The water is usually quiet then, the breeze often soft. To get to my spot I have to head straight into the eye-squinting sunlight, straight down a golden water-path of light. Then I turn behind a point of trees and set my paddle on my lap, ready for the show. Every evening is different. Weathermen can predict what they think will happen weatherwise each day. They are right sometimes. But no one can tell you what the sunset will look like. Will it be golden, or cadmium orange or just a soft yellow line across the horizon? Will the color echo onto the clouds and trees or will it adorn the sunball like a halo? I never know till it happens…and I love surprises…

Life is full of wave after wave of challenges. Some splash against us. Some crash against us, and some threaten to sweep us away like giant tsunamis.

We can kick and struggle, doing our best not to go under, or we can lie on our backs and…float. Floating is easier when the waves are small. The water doesn’t crash over our faces. But even when the waves are giant it is better to rest than to struggle. The truth is, we are at the mercy of the waves. We can’t stop them or slow them down, all we can do is figure out the best way to swim through them.

I think it is better to float; take careful breaths and look up at the light.