Held by the Waters of Grace

The day I was baptized I was sprinkled with water. I remember my pastor giving me a handkerchief so I could wipe the few drips of holy water that pooled around my eyes. Even at twelve years old I knew the waters of grace that hold and save us feel like more than a few sprinkles. But what I recall in addition to the actual placing of water over my head was the prayer beforehand.

I grew up United Methodist, so the prayer was the same one I had heard at every baptism before mine and would continue to hear at every baptism after. It is a beautiful prayer recounting all the amazing things God has done with water throughout history and how it is through the water we have been saved.

Eternal Father, When nothing existed but chaos,
you swept across the dark waters
and brought forth light.
In the days of Noah
you saved those on the ark through water.
After the flood you set in the clouds a rainbow.
When you saw your people as slaves in Egypt,
you led them to freedom through the sea.
Their children you brought through the Jordan
to the land which you promised.

Sing to the Lord, all the earth.
Tell of God’s mercy each day.

In the fullness of time you sent Jesus, nurtured in the water of a womb.
He was baptized by John and anointed by your Spirit.
He called his disciples
to share in the baptism of his death and resurrection
and to make disciples of all nations.

Declare Christ’s works to the nations,
his glory among all the people.

Pour out your Holy Spirit,
to bless this gift of water and those who receive it,
to wash away their sin
and clothe them in righteousness throughout their lives,
that, dying and being raised with Christ,
they may share in his final victory.

All praise to you, Eternal Father,
through your Son Jesus Christ,
who with you and the Holy Spirit
lives and reigns for ever. Amen.

The prayer spoke to something my soul already knew. Water is a life-giving, life-saving miracle from God.

Held by the Water of Grace

You see I was a water baby. My folks bought a lot on Lake Sinclair around the time I was born. On weekends we would all go to our lake lot and clear the land so a house could be built. And by we, I mean my parents and my brother. I was a baby, so I mostly napped. I remember being told how they would lay me at the bottom of the boat so the lake would rock me to sleep.

Nowadays my mother denies that story. “Leaving a baby in a boat alone would be dangerous!” she says. “We put you in the tent to sleep.” I sigh and think “What is a boat if not a floating tent?” and remain convinced my version of the story is right. Of course, the lake’s waves put me to sleep when I was a baby. The water has always held and soothed me.

In fact, when I think back on my life, the one constant comfort seems to be water. Water has been my place of refuge:  from the lake of my childhood to the mountain streams I would visit in college to the tidal marsh we lived on at our first house.

On hard days I would watch the sunrise over the ocean and recall how God swept across dark waters of chaos and brought forth light. I could rest on lakeside docks after a storm and remember how God put the bow in the sky and promised to be a God of life and not a God of destruction. While kayaking through the salt marsh reeds, I could imagine how God brought the people through the Red (reed) sea to freedom from oppression.

No matter what changes or troubles I was going through in life, I could turn to the waters of grace and remember God was holding me — with good, kind, and merciful arms.

Held in Trails and Transitions

In my current trials, I find myself turning to the water again. For this is a season of great transition.

This past August we sent our youngest child off to college, marking the end of our childrearing years and the beginning of the empty nest. Of course, I am still a mother. My children and I talk over the phone and they come home for visits. But it is different. They are becoming adults and need me less. To be honest, sometimes they want me less too. They need space to become who they were meant to be. It is a beautiful time, but a lonely time as well.

And my relationship my dad is changing as well. The man who once built a lake house with his own two hands is now frail in body and mind. I have to hold all the memories of our time together. I have to hold him some days as his body weakens and slowly moves towards death.

Walking with a loved one through their final years, months, and days is hard. There is a lot you have to carry in this time of transition and grief. I have been carrying so much my neck and shoulders tell the tale.

In this time of change, I have turned to the waters of the pool. Three times a week my husband and I go to our local lap pool to swim. That first moment I push off to glide through the water I am always surprised at how light everything feels. As I keep swimming and walking through the water, I can feel my burdens being washed away. My shoulders begin to loosen even as they work to push me through the water. Somewhere at the end of my swim. I roll on my back and just float.

This is perhaps the most important part of my swim. As I float I remind myself that I was not meant to carry the weight of all my burdens alone. Lying there on my back with my arms spread wide, I can remember that instead of holding everything all the time, I also need to take time to remember I am held.

The God who created the oceans is holding me.

The same God who saved Noah and the Israelites is saving me.

Rocking me calm with the water’s waves yet again.

I don’t know what changes and transitions you are dealing with these days. Only your shoulders know the weight of all you are carrying. But I do know one thing. God is holding you during it all. Rocking you in the waters of grace.