Seek the Sacred Amidst the Ordinary

The autumn skies have stopped me short the past few days. Dramatic clouds cover the bright blue sky and provide the perfect backdrop for the changing leaves and browning fields. It’s cool enough to enjoy a walk, yet not so cold that you can’t stay out as long as you like. So I was drawn to this spectacular photo by my friend Robert, of Ekala Falls in West Virginia. I love the contrast between the swirling water in the foreground and the water rushing over the rocks in the background. The swirl can draw you in, as though nothing exists outside of that little corner of the world. It’s easy to hang onto a hurt, or allow a setback to lead you to despair. A minor flaw or misstep can distort our view of progress, or cause us to think less of ourselves or others. We turtle in, rather than taking another risk, rather than allowing ourselves to be vulnerable. Yet like this swirling water, our isolation only serves to collect fallen leaves and broken branches. When we turn in on ourselves, we fail to notice the vibrant life that rushes past us, the abundant life we are promised by the Architect of the Universe. We become separated from one another and separate from our Creator. I don’t know about you, but I need another to help me find my way back. I must first trust the visible before I can take the leap of faith and reach for the invisible. I must be coaxed back into the fold, encouraged to take a chance, to allow myself to be vulnerable, to give myself permission to try, and perhaps fail, once again. And every time I find myself back in that rushing water, I am sure I will never fall prey to the swirl again. Take time today to be vulnerable, to make room for the Almighty to work. Pause to give thanks for those God has placed in your life, trusting a friend or family member to nudge you out of your comfort zone. Take one baby step, and then another, until you can manage that leap of faith. And always remember, God welcomes us back with open arms again and again, no matter how many times we lose our way. Text by Connie Chintall ©2012, Photo by Robert H Clark ©2012, used with his permission. To see more of his work, check out his blog at http://roberthclarkphotographyblog.com/