Shaping of me

I was wandering near the river's edge looking for pictures when I saw this odd drawing in the sand and mud beneath the water. The water's currents and movements had drawn it. It looks even cooler in person. But, what I started to think about was how my world's currents, people and experiences and even my own moods and emotions, shape and mold and leave their mark on me.
I think of the people who I have known, if even for a short time, and what they have taught me, what lessons they gave me, what memory makes me smile or makes my heart ache. Another wrinkle in the sand.
I think of the major experiences of my life, my childhood, my school years, my adulthood. I think of my experiences as a mother, as a wife, as a woman. A few more wrinkles in the sand.
I think of my struggles with depression and hormonal planetary shifts. I think of my struggles in my recovery and in my faith. I remember back as my faith has grown from praying to "Diana's God" to my very real, very own relationship with God. The sand shifts gracefully into a few more wrinkles.
It is rarely without pain that the wrinkles form tho. If the experience doesn't hurt, the loss of the moment is painful. Tears are invariably a part of my process just as water moves the sand on the riverbed. In fact, I tend simply think of my tears as precursors to growth because until I cry, I am still holding on. Tears are my white flag of surrender.
I am growing again, learning again, loving again, and losing again. I don't know why this is my process, but it may repeat itself all of my breathing moments and that is ok with me. I don't have to like it, as a wise woman once told me. I smile as I see her wrinkle in my life of sand.


Popular posts from this blog

Christ in His Distressing Disguise

Starting Again, in the Dark

Here We Go Again