The water lily

Today’s been a difficult day on many levels and a lovely one for a whole host of other reasons. It started off lovely with a walk in the park with Gamora and dear friends of ours. Then there was some news about something not so pleasant that’s been going on. I’m not going to spell out the problem as I barely know what to make of it. It only makes me miss my father. I think his presence would’ve made the difference to the entire situation. I think it wouldn’t have happened. The rest of the day included a glorious massage, a treat by my amazing friend. We had cake after that, and closed our day with dinner at home and an enjoyable movie. It’s been good having my friends here. I’m dreading the end of their visit. I’ve been receiving messages from concerned family and friends all day – and for this, I’m grateful. 

I’ve mentioned walks in the park with Gamora in a few other blogs I’ve written. This is a park I discovered very soon after my dad passed away. The park has been a therapeutic discovery. For Gamora it is a place of much wonder. There are so many delights to tantalise my little hunter. Her body is busy at work. Her little legs run nonstop and the exceptions to these are when she spots potential prey, makes friends with another doggie or friendly person, makes nature calls, or stops for water. She simply loves it. The satisfaction on her face is unmistakable. I love it and I think I will never tire of the look on her face  after an enjoyable walk. Gamora’s adorable when she settles into her car seat and noisily (and rather messily) laps water up from her bowl. 

I took some lovely photos of my favourite water lilies. The walk was good. Gamora sniffed at every thing in sight as is her usual. My friends tried taking photos of the helicopters and jets that were flying low, probably for our Independence Day celebrations coming up. It felt like there was something for everyone. 

I took a photo of a water lily. It was pink and in full bloom. It was alone, except for some leaves floating by it. It looked rather composed and calm. I love that look. Above it was the ever so blue sky dotted with clouds. My photo captures this beautifully. The clouds are somewhat delicate and the blueness of the sky takes over the murky brownness of the lake in which the lily resides. It truly is gorgeous and I’m proud of this photo. I have been trying to take better photos. Given that I can no longer squat or go on my knees, thanks to my RA, I find that I’m unable to get closer to the lilies. Additionally, I have Gamora’s leash in one hand and my little one isn’t the picture of perfect patience! It is hard trying to take photos with one hand. But this photo is good. I am pleased. 

The news that wasn’t so pleasant came after our walk in the park. I think I’m mostly in shock and I cannot seem to find my feelings. I know I miss my father. I know I miss my mother. I am in dire need of their comfort and wisdom. In many senses, I feel alone. Perhaps it is that sensation that made me think back on the photo I had taken. It’s such a pretty picture. The water lily looks as if it’s thriving because of the blueness of the sky, the water that it is in is hidden. I’m not a fan of what’s in that lake! I know there are fish and tortoises that people feed, but there are also huge monitor lizards. I cannot tell the number of times we’ve seen gigantic ones that look like mini alligators to me scurrying back into the water when  Gamora’s hunting call gets too much for them. I daren’t even think of what other dangers lurk in those waters. I just know I am not a fan. 

As my anxious mind contemplated the photograph I’d taken in light of the troubles of the day, I remembered God speaking about the lilies of the field (Matthew 6: 28-30). The lilies of the field, much like these water lilies that I’m enamoured by neither toil nor spin but we are told that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. The reminder is that ‘if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven,’ how much more will His care be for us? This reminder comes as a balm to my soul. I am reminded that in 1 Corinthians 6:20 that we are ‘bought with a price,’ that price being Jesus’ death on the cross in our place. 

I know that Jesus’ death and resurrection don’t mean that life here on earth will be trouble free. I know that. I don’t like that truth! It means that I may face another disappointment like I just have done. I wish I never have to, for it’s made me feel so very foolish and so very violated. I don’t like it because while I’m alive, I will never have the home that I’ve lost and that I miss with all my heart. But I do know that there will come a time when all is restored and made new again. There will be no more tears. This too is because of Christ’s purchase made upon the cross. It makes me then think how my life would look if it were a photograph. Like that lily, maybe there is a feeling of being alone when exposed to the elements and dangers that lurk in my vicinity. Like that lily, perhaps I cannot always thrive. There are seasons of my life which are tough. I’m in my toughest season yet as I navigate life without my father or mother. The latest disappointment isn’t a season, but an incident within an already difficult season. My future in Christ means blue skies are on the horizon. What a glorious future we are promised! My time on earth does have good and bad accompaniment. This goes without saying. But I contemplate where my anchor is- and that murkiness that the lovely water lilies in the park endure doesn’t really exist for me. Why? Because my anchor is Christ. He is good. He is safe. So perhaps my reality is closer to the photo that I took this morning. For this, I am so grateful. 

This season of grief will have many other challenges, I think. I hope that like today, I will always be reminded by God’s Word that He knows what I need in the different seasons of my life.