Approaching Slow Deep Waters

Growing up in Louisiana, I always had a great appreciation for fast moving water.  The only rivers I had ever known were slow, dark, and muddy - they were called "rivers", but most were simply wandering endless bodies of water more aptly described as bayous because they were not in a hurry to get anywhere fast.  My grandfather used to say a bayou is so named because it flows "by you house"...simple, and quite appropriate.

It was not until my teens years that I experienced "white water" - water moving so fast that it gurgled and belched foam as it laughingly barreled its way downstream. It was water untamed and unleashed, searching for adventure - like the old familiar callings of "Go West Young Man" or "Go Find Your Way in the World" - limitless opportunity, journeys for exploring.  Life called and its voice was high, shrill, and unavoidable - not to be denied.

My white waters were a magnificant ride - filled with adventure as they boiled over the downhill slope of life.  But there were dangerous rapids along the way - violent places where only lifeless floating things or strong swimmers survive.  As with surviving river rapids in a craft, life is all in the approach...always and eternally, it is all about the approach.  Approach the rapid poorly and you end up captain of a wreck - approach life poorly and you can wreck your craft and perhaps even the lives of those around you.  Successful white water approaches require planning and preparedness for the unexpected situation.  Your path through the turmoil must avoid the traps, the rocks, and make use of the current.  It must be planned by advanced scouting, determining the goal, and you must give yourself escape options when things do not go as planned. White waters are full of adventure and pleasures, but also fraught with turbulence and danger.  I appreciate them more now, not for their shallow pleasures, but for their lessons.

Slow deep water is rarely exciting after you go through the rush of white water.  Its lazy flow requires paddling to get through.  Its endless boredom surrounds, its silence lulls the sailor as he yearns for rest.  The quagmire of the muddy bayou offer up its own dangers: septic places, rotten stenches, sweat and toil.  

Life's river tends to get slower and deeper as the years go by - remembrances of rampaging rapids becoming stories that we tell our children.  Yet, slow deep water remains all about the approach.  Planning and preparedness remain necessities of success.  Lonely and forgotten places require work to negotiate, and dangers still abound.  Approaching the slow deep water of life takes more time and patience than the deadliest of rapids.  Strength must be gained and peace must be welcomed - not just to endure, but to enjoy the journey.  Strength requires exercise, peace requires patience and faith.  Let our exercise be spiritual discipline, allow our faith to make patience our friend.

Now I approach slow deep waters too with excitement, knowing that wonders lurk beneath.