Floating

Years ago I was a youth minister and our group was invited to go tubing down the river. I'm not much of a water person, and I have more than one tale about an ill fated trip down the river - but I always tried to keep those fears to myself. And, after all, this wasn't white water rafting. It was a gentle float in inner tubes. Simple.

Well for once, it was not me that had a particularly rough day. Another adult friend of mine had one thing wrong after another. Nothing was going her way. Finally, she ran into some rocks and her inner tube literally popped. Instant deflate. We are like only about one third finished with our trip - and we are in the middle of the river - and one of our group is now completely without a float. What to do?

Somewhat begrudgingly, but knowing it was the right thing to do, I gave her my float. But now, what about me? I end up sharing a float with my husband, where one of us is mostly in the water, and where we are both trying to balance on our float.

It turned out to be not such an easy day on the river after all. Somehow we made it. Not the biggest of world problems by any means, but certainly not the day we were expecting.

And some days are like that. We have the best intentions of floating along, but there are rocks and frustrations and a scarcity mentality - "not enough floats!" What to do? Somehow we have to make it downstream where we can climb out and trek out. Then we have pebbles in our suits and a hot old school bus to look forward to. How did this part ever sound fun?

I'm not very good at this part... but I've found that the more I resist the current the harder it is. I don't want to spin around. I don't want to knock against rocks or get tossed in the water. I don't want to scrape my knees or have something touch my feet in the dark water. I don't want to give up the safety of my own inner tube, and I very quickly want to get to the end of this outing. And in all of this - I missed the float.

I missed running my fingers through the water, laughing, connecting with friends.

Maybe some of. us are just not floating types. I'd always rather be closer to shore. But I know that if I can just allow the river to be, I might just able to be as well.

I recently went to hear Rob Bell speak with my friend Angelique. He asked us to draw a picture of a mountain and then a river running down. We spent a lot of time thinking through what rivers looked like and acted like in our minds. They go where they want. They are what they are. We have lessons to learn from creation around us when we slow down and watch and listen.

When I lead meditation groups in our pool, I remind participants that they might bump into one another, or even get stuck in a corner. But somehow just as everyone starts to relax, a gentle breeze helps move the floats around, together, and apart.

If you have the opportunity, go for a float. Close your eyes. Let the water guide you. It doesn't have to be a river or a lake. Just let the breeze show you the way. Listen to the dogs barking and the lawn mowers running. Just like life, these things come and go. For just a few minutes, release the resist. See what happens when you are brave enough to give in to the flow.