The past few days have been chaotic. Emotions running high. Physical energy running low. As I laid on my bed last night, starring at the ceiling, I prayed for my thoughts to slow down. I prayed for my mind to be quiet. I knew I should just hop in my pjs and settle in for the sleep my body desperately needed. I knew though that my mind had a different set of needs. A need to calm down and find a resting place through the mess that encompassed the past few days.
The loss of a student is something I've never experienced and naively never expected to. My heart is tender at the loss her family and close friends must be feeling if my sense of loss is as great as it is.
In addition to the scar that Saturday created on my heart, Monday brought with it a whole new set of anxieties. The economic issues have stretched their tentacles into my realm for the first time and I am beginning to understand the stress I once only empathized with.
For almost two weeks now, I've been talking about making a list of the books I have in my apartment that have yet to be read. I intended to make a list and prioritize these pages upon pages so that I could rest and read what is already mine before setting out on an adventure in pursuit of other readings. As I sat on the edge of my bed, almost in a meditative state, last night, the priority list found me.
A book entitled, "Sailing between the Stars: Musings on the Mysteries of Faith" by Steven James. The title itself was a welcome surprise for my evening as throughout the last few days, my thoughts have centered around "why" when I think about such a young woman loosing her life. Mysterious, this God of ours. Mysterious this faith of mine. All the while, making sense, I thought.
I read through three chapters in what felt like minutes but in actuality, was over an hour. The writer's phrasing simply beautiful and rhythmic in it's simplicity. The author wrote this about jumping fish in a clear lake in Minnesota:
"I started wondering what it would be like to be one of those fish, swimming through this mountain lake, minding my own business and then one day rising to the ceiling of all that there is and finding that I could poke my nose through the surface of the sky. And not only my nose, but to learn, in a moment of glorious discovery, that with the right flip of my tail I could break through the rippling curtain of my world and take flight, experiencing the strange and wonderful and dangerous freedom of the air."
I have no idea why I thought of this young woman so much when reading this. Perhaps it was her connection to the sea. Perhaps it was the romanticism behind shattering the ceiling of our world and delving into what lies beyond.
I am beginning to think that the mystery of my faith is perhaps, one of the things I love most about it.
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