Nature has been a source of calm, beauty, and inspiration in all areas of my life.
From North Africa for the month of January, staying with my daughter's family...
Sunrise was imminent, the pink glows of predawn skies hurried me along the walk to the marina. By now I had navigated this pathway alone several times ... turn right at the first corner, continue past the car wash, the louage/taxi station, past the school that has a child to toilet ratio of one hundred to one, straight ahead at the first roundabout, slightly right at the second one. Sidewalks present their own obstacle course challenges of 'men's only' cafe chairs, cars, motorbikes, or stacks of building bricks; and the curbs vary in height from nine to eighteen inches—an added challenge when pushing a stroller.
Past the police station on the left, where the latest crunched Peugot waits inspection. (Mopeds are hard to insure, as “they have too many accidents.”) Papagallo's Italian-ish
Thousands of octopus pots line the rocky port walls—the small clay pot trap has not changed for centuries. Apparently the tiny octopus and squid love to crawl into cozy spaces, and then become trapped due to their inability to either back up or turn around.
Reminds me of the children's story of a boy who caught his hand in a jar, and was unable to free it as he couldn't release his grip on the item of his desire. I am reminded how easy it has been to feel stuck in a tight spot, unable to reshape my attitude. I climb over the rocks that create the protection for the boats in the port, reaching the light house, and I watch the waters swirl... the blue of the Mediterranean sea — rich, deep colours, the boats traveling out to sea, a feast for the eyes, therapy for the soul.
My heart craves for beauty, and recently John Eldredge put it into words for me.... in that as much as we have felt pains in our lives, proportionately we seek the beauty ... this has become clear to me in my journey of grief. The amazing thing is that beauty can be found everywhere, in all countries, all climates, in ordinary and spectacular.
I have brought my travel New Testament with me; it was my daughter's, and I still feel connected when I find verses she has underlined. This morning the pages open at First Corinthians 4:7 ... And I laugh at God's sense of humour as I read: “Yet we who have this spiritual treasure are like common clay pots, in order to show that the supreme power belongs to God, not to us ....” (Good News NT)
I text my daughter to let her know that I will meet her on the path to her son's school.
What a great start to the day for just one of a million clay pots!
Jocelyn Faire
A child of God, a mother, a grand-mother, a
world traveller wannabe, and former operating room nurse; she is a seeker of
beauty. Into each life a little rain must fall, but the downpour of losing two
of her three children in a car accident was an event survived by God's grace
alone. Through a journey of intense
tragedy emerges a woman being rebuilt by her Creator who has led her to see the
flowers that bloom in the desert.
Her book on grief, Who is Talking out
of My Head? Grief as an Out of Body Experience, was published by
DW Friesen in 2013 and is available in Manitoba bookstores; online at Amazon,
or Friesenpress.com
She blogs about finding hope in the hard
places at Who Is Talking. You can find her on Facebook via Jocelyn B Faire.
Currently enrolled in University of
Calgary's Creative Writing program.
