This is what my copy of Walking on Water by Madeleine L'Engle looks like one chapter in:
I came home from Well House, my church, this morning full of hope and love and excitement, so grateful God has brought me to a place full of people who make me feel the presence of God because of the way they have drunk deeply from His living water, people who make me want to live more deeply too. I want to write more about that, and maybe I will. If I do, I guarantee it will be steeped in water metaphor. I am so glad that our name is Well House, that our living and being as a community is so intimately connected to the story of Jesus meeting the woman at the well, that one of our favorite songs as a community is a dancing celebration of how "deep cries out to deep" and how we jump into the deep end of God's love and mercy...
But anyway, I came home in that place of feeling filled and overflowing, and I planned to turn my energy into energy for cleaning house—a showing of love for my husband who appreciates that gesture of love perhaps above all others, a love language I am still learning—and I planned to listen to the message from Well House that I missed last week while I worked. (Back to Well House, I have never missed being somewhere like I miss being at Well House. I only missed one week, and today I felt like it had been months, and I was so glad to be there again, so eager to go back and hear what I missed while I was gone. What an amazing feeling!)
Anyway, the point of that is I went to get my computer from my school bag so that I could use it to listen to the message while I was working, but in my school bag near my computer was the book Walking on Water, which I bought at a friend's recommendation this week, and, on a whim, I decided to let myself read a chapter before starting to work.
And, back to where I started this journal entry of a blog, the picture above is what my copy of that first chapter looks like already. I am in a season of grappling right now. A season that I thought was over that I believe God allowed to be extended. (Maybe more on that later.) And I'm deciding to live into that grappling. To let it be on purpose. To pray for dross to be consumed and gold to be refined in this time I didn't expect and didn't want. To jump in the deep, to let go and forget that I can't walk on water so that I can remember that I can.
