Sometimes life feels like a deep, swift river. It pulls you along faster than you wish to go, relentless in it's tugging and pushing. Waterlogged pieces of wood and random things carried away by the river ram into you every now and then, doling out blows to the head, the legs, the torso. Leaving bruises inside and out. All you can do is bob along, trying to keep your head above water as you're pulled along, trying to evade the heavy things coming your way.
People on the shore shout out to you as you're carried along. Sometimes you hear them, sometimes all you see is their mouths moving, their arms waving. They're all advising you in ways to help yourself get out of the River, yet no one comes alongside to give you the help you really need.
You begin to wonder what would happen if you gave up struggling. Would the River stop its quick pace? Would it slow down to let you catch your breath? Would you just continue to be carried along? Would you sink, or would you float?
Then, just when you think you're body is exhausted beyond it's limit, you find the river turn a corner. It widens and slows down. You soon find that it's become shallower and that you can even stand. How long will this section of the river last before it becomes swift and deep again? Will I be able to regain enough breath and strength to continue fighting along? Will I sink, or will I float?
1 comment:
yes. that's exactally what it's like....
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