a faith observed: Swimming

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Swimming

Simon had his second swimming lesson today. I love watching him in these types of settings. He listens so well to his instructor and I see him adjusting little things he is doing, trying to do what she's telling him. I also noticed how my little boy, who has been at times very terrified of water and who tends to flap his tense little arms and legs around, relaxed in the water to try floating. I love his smile, seeing him volunteer to do something first, and put his head under water. Even with some of the other children in his class, crying and upset, he was happy and positive and comfortable. And always turns to find my eyes and gives me a wave or thumbs up and a big proud smile. After Simon's lesson he joined Gracie and I for a swim, and swim he did. With only a floatie ring around his waist he swam back and forth across the pool, racing Gracie to see who could get a cup that he would enthusiastically throw across the pool. He was having such a great time- I really could hardly believe that this was the same Simon. He's gaining confidence in the water and having fun, and I'm so excited to see him learn to swim! Gracie, who loves the water and especially loves sporting her pink, strawberry bathing suit, immediately strapped on Simon's life jacket when we first got to the pool. This worked well- she could swim around the pool with her "crabbie" floatie ring around her waist unassisted, as well as lie back in the water, close her eyes and nearly float off to sleep. After 2 hours in the pool she said to me, very concerned, "My fingers, mummy, they falling off!"

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This is me, a faith observed.

C.S. Lewis writes about the pain of losing his beloved wife, Joy, in his book, "A Grief Observed". In some ways this is my attempt to share my journey through grief and back into life, as the past nine months have been characterized by an immeasurable longing for my beloved father, who died suddenly this past January.

After months of hibernation from the internet, I unexpectedly find myself able to re-begin this blog and connect with my larger community of family and friends. This blog will likely reflect less of the intensity and depth of my pain and more of the simplicity and ordinary joy that keeps my life full - namely days running after our little boy, Simon Pierre. But it is because of the incredible love and presence that defined my relationship with my father, that I feel I can will myself to not just survive each day but to pour that same kind of love and attention onto Simon.

My father was an endless source of strength to me, a pillar of faith. His last words, spoken to my mother as he passed into that which is unseen, "God is good - good all the time", have remained with me through this dark cloud of grief. And when God seems hidden, when justice seems to be losing out, when life is unfair, and when death swallows up the one I most love, I remember my father's words and breathe in this promise, that the God of love is in the process of restoring that which has been destroyed.

And as my father told me in dream I've had since his death, "Look to Jesus. As a father, to point you towards Him is the best gift I can give to you." So here I am, this is me, a faith to be observed.

I hold onto that which is not always seen- the promise of God's goodness, the hope that one day in the promised new heavens and earth- on a grassy hill or a sand covered beach- the lion and the lamb will lie down side by side and I, too, will lie down side by side, next to my father, and we will laugh and laugh until there are no more tears left to cry.