I dreamed about drowning last week.
I was standing by a pool and there, in deep, deep water, a little girl was drowning.
Her body curled into a comma in water too deep for me.
I knew I couldn't save her.
I ran for help instead, and I found other people, friends, nice, helping people. But nobody could come.
I ran back to the pool, and there she was, still, drowning, and there I was, still, not being able to save her.
It disturbed me so much that I woke up.
And when I woke up, I knew exactly who was in the pool, drowning.
I know her by name. I know the deep water.
And I know this also: there's nothing I can do. The water is too deep for me, and it feels like nobody is coming to help.
And I don't know what to do.
So we went to church this morning and sang, "Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look full in his wonderful face, and the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of his glory and grace."
Tonight I made a place of vigil in my front hallway.
A place to keep watch, when all I can do is watch and pray and it feels like not enough.
A place for light and glory and grace, I hope, right in the middle of it all.
Because when I don't know what else to do, I have to keep reminding myself that Love is at work when I can't see it.
Love is at work when I can't control it.
Love is at work when everything goes wrong.
Nothing can separate us from Love.
Nothing.
Not the deepest water, anywhere on earth.