The following is from my journal, written during extreme trials in 1992.
I’m swimming in the ocean of life.
Sometimes, when the water’s nice,
I ride the waves–a surge of water
I jump and let the water carry me up
and set my feet gently back on the sandy bottom,
Then again and again
the gentle waves come,
And from time to time I look up excitedly at
who is always with me.
But when the water gets rough,
Sometimes the waves go way over my head—
It’s not so fun anymore.
The sun hides its face, and
the water is dark.
Daddy, can’t I go back to the shore?
He’s holding my hand tightly;
I’m really in no imminent danger,
So why am I so afraid?
“Trust me, my child,” He says
holding me tightly all the while.
“Look around you,” He says.
Suddenly I realize
How many others are also in the troubled waters
Some are trying hard to fight the water
in their own strength,
but the water is stronger than they are.
My Daddy says to them,
“Here, let me help you!”
“No, no!” cry out some.
“You don’t even exist!”
And they continue their futile battle
against the waves.
Others around us realize their weakness
Compared with the water’s power.
“Help, help!” they cry.
Daddy helps me through the rough waters
and lets me help my neighbor
up to the shore for a rest.
“Thank you,” my neighbor says to me.
“I want you to meet my Daddy,” I say.
“He’s the One who helped us both out.”
Later, when the sun comes back out,
We both go out into the water
With our Daddy close beside us.