Formless and Empty

Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.

 I have been home for a total of 13 days and in that time, I have done many things.  But the one thing I should never set aside has been set aside.  When I was in Poland, I read my Bible every morning when I woke up.  I fixed myself some breakfast (usually granola with fresh fruit or yogurt) and then went into my room, closed the door, and spent some time with God.  When I had more time, I read until I felt like stopping and even then, sometimes I didn't feel like stopping and so I would read until lunch.  At times, I broke up the reading by walking down to the Baltic Sea, enjoying the movement of the waves and the cry of the majwa flying above me.  I always saw one or two soaring, not going forward or backward, just staying in one place until they gave in to the wind's mighty hand.  I told myself that they too needed to just "be", to exist, to feel alive.  And it was true.  The times I walked along the shore of the Baltic, mimicking the majwa, I felt free, alive, new.

My perspective always seemed to change, to alter, when I walked along the sea.  If I went to the sea in anger, it changed to peace.  If I went in sadness, it changed to joy.  If I went in despair, it changed to hope.  If I went in abandonment, it changed to acceptance.  If I went in confusion, it changed to clarity.  If I went in emptiness, it changed to feeling filled.  I firmly believe that God was (and still is) in the sea and that He met me there every time I asked Him to and maybe even the times I didn't...or couldn't.

The Baltic was strangely reassuring.  Consistent  (ever-present) yet I constantly found that it was never the same from day to day.  There were always different things I noticed when I walked along the shore of the sea.  Every day, the tide brought in different rocks of all shapes and sizes, and the whitest shells I have ever seen.  In autumn, the sea was shades of grey and rain fell in torrents upon its surface.  In the winter, the sea froze, but the waves kept coming and hammered at the ice until it gave them a path to the shore.  In the spring, the water was calm yet strong and the sun brought out hues of blue.  And now it's summer and I do not know what the sea looks like or how it moves.  For some strange reason, that fact makes me want to cry. 

Halina tells me the sea is beautiful and warmer than it used to be.  She tells me she walks along the shore but that it's different because I am not there to see it too.  She tells me to come back.  She tells me she misses me and that she loves me.  She also tells me dobranoc and hangs up the phone.  The teal phone that's dirty and old.  The teal phone with big black numbers on white backgrounds and a permanently-tangled cord.  The phone she picks up every day and into it says a quiet slucham?  The phone she uses to speak to me and tell me that the sea is warm and beautiful, that I should come back, and that she misses and loves me.  That phone.

Some days I feel formless and empty.