GOD IS MY LIFE-RAFT

  I always wonder if using the word, "God" in a title puts people off or invites them in. You decide and please tell me what your response is. In the old days when I was an atheist, before I came crashing into faith (literally), I would have sucked in a breath, chewed one lip, and erased the post. This is a photo of a woman who made the journey from atheism to the Catholic faith, Leah Libresco, who writes for Patheos and other outlets.

 Now it is so different. Perhaps it is different for you too, wherever you are on your faith journey.

  Back in the day, B.K., before kids, when we lived in an apartment on Day Avenue in Northampton, as a teacher Rick had summers off. We bought a wonderful blow-up raft from Gleasons,

 my favorite store, and would drive up to the D.A.R. in Goshen, raft in the car along with our suits, towels, and face masks.

 We'd take the blown-up raft to the launching area, 

climb in, and paddle to our favorite site near the shore where we put on face masks and hung over the raft's edge (balancing) to view the depths below.

 It was a different, ineffable world: tall plants waving in the slight current, small fish, turtles swimming slowly past, and other unnameable creatures (meaning that my 77 year-old brain has forgotten) floating in the lake water which had a lovely light peaty color, as if brewed too long in Red Rose tea. 

 

We always left the lake refreshed and inspired, as if a glimpse into "otherness" reminded us of how small we were, how we were just a tiny part of the vast network of living things.

 I think of God that way. That I clamber aboard, especially on days like this when I am uninspired and feeling down-presser and hang my head over God's arm to get a better view of the world I live in. Far away is the deck where I walk, with bluebirds congregating at our feeder and drinking at the water bath. 

There is Candy, our adorable lap-dog, lapping seed from the boards. Down on the land my dear husband is dragging fallen branches out of the drive to cut up and dry for burning in our fireplace later on. With a farther view I see the Holyoke Range,

 Mt. Skinner, and Mt. Tom, with the far blue mountains beyond, possibly near Worcester where my daughter went to college years ago and graduated Summa Cum Laude. (Only a little bit proud.....) On a clear day you can see forever if we are resting on God's arm.

 I feel the warmth of God beneath me. I sense God breathing on my bare arms. I think I feel God's heart beating against mine in the same rhythm, with Her blood pumping through huge veins as mine pumps through my smaller ones. We are in sync. We are one heart. Truly. And THIS, THIS, takes my sad mood to new heights, lifts me up to another realm where moods, sadness, happiness, all of it is blown away by Her warm breath, which seems to say to me,

  "I am here, with you, always. Wherever you walk, whether you stumble or skip, I am right beside you, holding your hand. You cannot feel me most times, but at moments you will sense warmth to your right. That is me. Your heart. Your creator. The edge of your life-raft, always keeping you afloat." 

 

  So I fold up that memory in my box of the past, knowing I can take it out anytime I am low, blow up the raft, and float on God's immeasurable love. Can somebody say Amen?