the practice of staying in irons

seventy percent of the earth’s surface is covered by water. the human body is about seventy percent water, too.

god may be trying to tell us something.

each human being is a walking ocean. we, every one of us, has depths therein that can’t be fathomed or known. titanics and freighters sunk to the bottom of each of our souls. wrecks sit silent and preserved and who can reach them to explore their hidden places to find the treasure within?

i’m staring at him as he walks the shore with our three children. four oceans next to the great lake. married fourteen years this month and both of us barely up to our knees in the waters of the other.

i can’t know the expanse of you, darling.

if i tried to cross your entirety, in my own strength, i would drown. i would descend lifeless and become a meal for the sea monsters that swim in every soul.

i’m not able to persevere or be a life preserver for the waters of another human being.

even you, my love.

so who is responsible then?

who made these seas that we can walk beside and ponder but never fully know?

who has carved out the deep places in me that i can’t discover? it’s black, an unknowable depth in the seventy percent of my human soul. too deep for any except the sunken and the creatures who swim secret.

there is only one.

one for whom it is all plain. one for whom depths are laid bare.

even the seas give up their depths to you, oh lord. you, the knower and revealer of secrets no human ears have heard or imagined. you can find the wreckage in me and tow it up to the surface.

and together in that place, on an isolated shore beside the waves, just you and i, the one you’ve made, the one you love. we will wander through what remains, lord. you stay long when no one else can stand it. you listen to the memories the wreckage brings back to me. you fill in the forgotten gaps with the grace i always disregard.

then with this hidden, sunken vessel now revealed you walk me through the rooms, lord, and together we find placed beneath the floorboards, the treasure.

you’ll do this for me and you’ll do it for joshua.

there within our wreckage, under the silence and gloom of the deep dark of our soul waters, there is enough loot to restore this ship from stem to stern. and jesus, my captain, you will set us back up on the waves. you will navigate these waters and i will go with you and he will go with you and we’ll learn how to live on the worlds of ourselves without capsizing.

i know we will.

linking with ann today…

5 thoughts on “the practice of staying in irons

  1. I love this analogy. It reminds me of Proverbs 20:5 – “The purposes of a man’s heart are deep waters …” And I feel like a sunken treasure hunter as a counselor by profession and a pursuer of my own healing by personal choice. Great post and pictures, Neighbor!

  2. What a metaphor. And made even more beautiful in your skilled writer hands.

    This: “i can’t know the expanse of you, darling.”

    And really, just all of it. Breathtaking.

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