Words and water, fear and hope

Even on an overcast day like today, soft light still filters through the high windows and the warmth of the therapy pool relaxes stiff limbs.

Swimming and walking across this comfortably warm pool feels so good. When I first got in, I visited a bit with a woman I hadn’t met before, and I found our conversation somehow comforting.

We talked about recent events in our community. We grieved over the senseless stabbing this week at the Union Gospel Mission which left twelve people wounded. I’ve been praying for those injured by this crazed individual who left some of those he stabbed fighting for their survival. I can only imagine the trauma so many of them experienced unexpectedly on that bloody evening.

Earlier, we talked about how soothing the water felt, and Barb shared with me about her previous knee replacements. She’d flown to India for the first knee.

People make it through all sorts of things.

I will too.

Somehow, through the human connection of words and emotions, I felt a bit lighter…shared moments as we continued to move across the water.

I thought about the conversations and connections I have enjoyed over the years here.

I swam in the deeper end for a while before returning to walk from side to side.

A bit later, one of my older friends, who I have known for decades, commented that she’s afraid of dying. I appreciate her honesty and openness. I feel honored she trusts me in this way.

We moved back and forth across the pool, sharing our thoughts, and somehow I think those fears or concerns felt a little lighter as her words found expression.

We talked about hope for eternity and also some of the challenges and uncertainties that arise with aging.

We need connection with others. She finds purpose in volunteering at the senior center. She’s been coming to the pool for many years, too.

A few months ago, this dear octogenarian fell and broke her arm near her shoulder. Recovery hasn’t been easy, and if she moves her arm wrong, the pain gets flared up again.

Simple tasks still hurt at times.

But she perseveres and I admire her for this. She values these other women and the friendships we have formed over time.

We need each other.

Many of them are widows.

I feel blessed to have met some of them decades ago here. We have shared our lives, our joys and our sorrows. Somehow the challenges feel a little less daunting in the safety of old friends.

We need hope, and I am grateful for the enduring hope I have found in Christ. We don’t have to fear death, though it involves unknowns.

Our mortality joins us in the waters. It floats alongside us.

In Hebrews 6, it talks about this hope as an anchor for our souls.

As some of us continued walking underwater, I learned that one of our friends from the pool died in February. She was in her early nineties. Jean loved the Lord, and though we miss her, I know she looked forward to being in His Presence.

I am grateful Jesus accompanies His children wherever we go. I often pray as I swim. I take tremendous comfort in His love and grace.

Today before I got out of the pool, a man was carefully holding another fellow’s head above the water and moving him to the shallow end.

“He’s having a seizure,” he told us. Someone scurried off to get a staff person to call the paramedics.

Life holds uncertainty, just as the one man held the other up to the surface of the water, carefully cradling him as he moved to the stairs leading to the edge of the pool.

As I left the dressing room, the paramedics had this fellow on a stretcher and they entered the elevator. They asked him how he was feeling.

“Pretty rough,” he responded.

I was thankful to see him receiving care, safely out of the water.

No matter what you’re going through, I pray you know you’re held in the midst of the chaos.

You are safe.

You are loved.

You’re going to be okay.