Water draws me. Having grown up along the shore, my eyes are trained to notice the subtle mood swings in its undulating expanse. I love the way that sunlight glitters and trips off the waves. Cantankerous and changeable, spirited and flirtatious. Or utterly tranquil. Perhaps you feel the same longing when you face the sea and witness its ceaseless roar?
When I was a girl, we were lucky enough to sail. Many weekends, our family would ply the briny waters of the Chesapeake, full tilt at 15 knots. And just as many days, our vessel would bob listlessly under windless skies. While the rest of the crew was pulling down sails to head home, I would plead with my father to stay, to remain cradled in its shimmering tide.
Though I moved away from the coast after college, I never stopped searching for open water. Recently, our family relocated from the mountains, and I am home once more, barefoot on the beach! Since we are between boats, my perspective is now bound by my view from shore.
Yet even from land, hemmed in by the boundary of the waves, that familiar longing – eternal thirst – still beckons. There are lessons to be learned here. I wonder sometimes if God is made of water.
“He has made everything beautiful in its time and has set eternity in our hearts [that mysterious longing which nothing but God can satisfy] …” -Ecclesiastes 3:11 (Amplified Bible)