In this season of disciplined downsizing and letting go, I had not anticipated having kayak restrictions placed upon my bliss.
Out on the flat water this morning, I let it get kind of emotional. It's hard to describe the soul-effect of water and sky, unhurried dip of the paddle blade, rocks and trees and loon landing in a long, soft splash beside me. All and each sacred for their own unmeasurable worth.
All the longings for this cannot be met in one morning's ride.
But I try.
I supposed I've discovered a new level of fasting. And then it occurs to me that this whole big deal of our move to a smaller place, our being 'in between' for longer than looks sensible, our letting go and saying goodbye, of drawing small circles of 'necessary,' and the extra layer of physical, healing-from-surgery restrictions laid on top of it, all of it is like that. A fast from what I think I 'need,' to help me clarify my deeper longings.
I've so missed being out in the kayak early in the morning when it's quiet and the water is flat and my soul can be reassured once more that the One Who flung all this into place with a mere word, still speaks on my behalf.
"You, God, are my God.
Earnestly I seek You.
I thirst for You,
my whole being longs for You
in a dry and parched land
where there is no water."
Psalm 63:1
The irony of these words coming to mind as I rest lightly on the abundant waters of Georgian Bay is not lost on me. But the description of longing is right on the bean. That sense of being needy for something, with 'my whole being.'
This summer I will not accomplish my goal of beating my 37 times around record set last year. But maybe something else is being accomplished in me instead.
In other seasons of life, when the longings for things absent made my heart consumed with longing, I taught myself a 'breath prayer' (a spiritual practice that is pretty much self descriptive).
"Turn all my longings into longings for You."
May our hearts grow fonder, and softer, and wilder, and braver in the absence of all we long for.
