Season of Creation: A Water Reflection

I am drawn to bodies of water. Growing up along the Mississippi River, I felt wonder that on one side of the land was Iowa and on the other, either Illinois or Wisconsin. As a young child, I could orient myself on a map by locating the blue ribbon that stretched from nearly the top of the country to the bottom. Then I met Lake Superior. Superior took me by surprise.

The rocky beaches, the waves, and the craggy shores—I imagined this is what an ocean would look like. There was no land to see on the other side—just an expanse of blue. I thought of the power of that lake, of the shipwrecks, the storms, and the unpredictability, but I also stood in awe of its immenseness and its beauty. My breath seemed to sync with the flow of the water, and when we were fortunate to sleep in a cabin near the shore, I kept the window open during 40-degree nights so that I could fall asleep to the sound of the water—the ebb and flow. I felt so connected to the sounds of the      waves crashing into the shore and and the sway of the water—back and forth—that I recorded a video of it to savor after I returned home to the banks of the tranquil Mississippi.

I challenge myself to see the resource of water as a privilege and a gift. Even in mud puddles along the road after a rainstorm, or the sound of the sump pump flushing excess water out of my basement, water is a resource that our bodies and our Earth need to survive.

A favorite spot of Karen’s on the shore of Lake Superior.

I want to feel the same wonder and awe when I turn on the faucet and see clear, clean water splash into a glass to nourish my body as I do when I sit on the shore of Lake Superior.

I want to stand in the presence of water and give thanks.