Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

Lisa

Into the deep

I have never been sailing. Never been on a cruise. I have a fear of drowning.

But there’s something about deep water that draws me. I’ve often wondered what it would be like to be in the middle of the ocean, no land in sight. What would I see? What would I hear? What would the night sky look like unfiltered?

David Valuja via Unsplash

David Valuja via Unsplash

I’m fascinated by the creatures that live in the ocean depths, but I’m a bit claustrophobic, so I can’t see myself scuba diving or boarding a submarine anytime soon. I am content with pictures and aquariums, with the experiences of those who brave the deep to explore what can’t be seen.

So it is with my spiritual life, I’m embarrassed to admit.

There is a longing inside of me to go deeper. To have the kind of inner spiritual life that is untouched by the world and its circumstances around me. Sometimes I trick myself into thinking I am deeper than I really am, but when faced with someone whose life is richer and fuller and more deeply rooted, I see the truth.

I am shallow. My toes are on the sand, where the water grazes them and retreats. I am knee-deep by accident when the tide rushes in. I hear the water beckon, but I stay put.

Here on the shore, I can feel the ground beneath me. Here on the shore, I can easily retreat to a place where the water can’t reach me. Here on the shore, I am within shouting distance of help. Here on the shore, I am in control of my actions.

Out there, in the water, it’s unpredictible. Wild. Dangerous. What about sharks and jellyfish and riptides? What about water in my mouth and muscle cramps from trying to stay afloat and struggled breaths? Out there, it’s work to stay afloat, to stay alive.

Read the rest over at Putting on the New, where I post on the 12th of each month.

A strength that bends, not breaks: Review of The Feathered Bone by Julie Cantrell

New Orleans is known for a lot of things: Mardi Gras, the French Quarter, Hurricane Katrina, to name a few. But human trafficking? I would not have linked the two.

feathered boneIn The Feathered Bone, author Julie Cantrell does. She also tackles such subjects as domestic abuse, grief, suicide, natural disaster, and divorce. When I think about the number of “heavy” issues in this novel, I’m surprised at how uplifting the story is. That’s the beauty of Cantrell’s storytelling for me. (Disclaimer: I received a free copy of the book in exchange for my review.)

But The Feathered Bone is all about holding on to hope, no matter the circumstances. And the analogy of hope being like a feather, a strong, bendable support that doesn’t break under pressure, is a beautiful reminder that pain and suffering don’t have to be the end of the story.

Cantrell starts the story pre-Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans, where a class field trip ends tragically after one of the 12-year-old girls goes missing. What follows is a heart-breaking chronicle of grief and enduring hope. This is no fluffy escapist read. Some of it is shockingly difficult to process.

But it’s an important story, one of the best I’ve read recently. Take your time with this one and proceed with caution. The journey is worth it. Hope is its promise.