Lessons from Knee-Deep Water

     Life sometimes feels as murky as seawater crashing against the shore. And when I’m standing in that water, surrounded by a sandy coast that’s, with the waves, managed to form a little pool—one that will vanish with the next high tide—a thought comes to mind.

    I can’t see the next step in front of me. I don’t know if the sand beneath has sunk or risen. I don’t know how deep or how shallow it is. I can’t see clearly. But the destination—the rise of sand that slopes directly into the sea—that, I can see. What’s unclear is the next step.

    Sometimes I have the strength to take that unseen step. Sometimes I wait, gauging the depth. Other times, I don’t move at all.

    And every way I stand in that water is okay. Each response is what I need, in that moment.

    So, it’s okay not to move, even when the destination is in sight.