Mesmerizing Waters

In a previous blog (Unforced Affection), I wrote about how Jesus was sitting next to me but I couldn’t let him touch me or hold me yet. The trauma and pain was too deep. This week, a month after Julia’s passing, Mike and I were gifted a trip to Mt. Rainier, Washington. My sister-in-law, Tiffany, planned the whole trip for us, and David, my cousin, spent a day with us on the mountain, taking us on three beautiful hikes. In the middle of one of our hikes, I turned to Mike and said, “Remember that video you showed me of the man sitting with the traumatized dog? I think I’m finally at the part where the dog can be picked up.” Here’s a little poem I wrote that captures that experience: 

I leave the prison cell of trauma and pain
Drive down an endless road of towering pine trees
You’re not in prison, you whisper to me 
We hike the tallest mountain
A 360 view of snow-capped mountains 
Majestic beauty in every direction
God’s hugs are big and spacious
We peer around a tree and see 
Rushing water
I sit on a large rock, feeling the safety beneath me
The mist of the waterfall cools my sweaty face
Christian hymns come to mind
But I just want them to leave
All I want is the music from the water
Consistent beats of calm and strength
The water crashes harder the further it drops down
A reminder of the harshness of life and death
Turns into a peaceful river
I don’t want to leave the mesmerizing water
But I trust the memory will stay in my body forever