Faith, Life, and Lessons

At the beach the other morning, Viv read me a passage from one of her books about the formation of sand. It sounds boring, unless you’re an aspiring paleontologist/archaeologist/geologist like Viv, but it was actually a beautiful metaphor. While I always thought sand formed from rocks in a given area, the book noted that sand is actually formed from the grinding of rocks all across the globe, especially in glaciers that freeze and bust. Over millions of years, the shards are churned into spherical balls that eventually make their way to the beaches and lakes, where they’re mixed and eventually make the homogenous mixture I get to lay on as I fry my body. It seems that as I lurch toward graduation and The Great Unknown of my future, everything has turned into a metaphor. This passage about sand, too, has fallen victim to my figurative mind. As my friends and I are broken apart by the wind and rain called Time (more accurately called “jobs” and “plans”), it can be scary to wonder wha...

A few weeks ago, I finished exams early and flew to Jacksonville, where I met my parents to go to the Crawfish Festival in Woodbine, GA (it’s as remote as it sounds) and mainly see my grandparents, MamMa and Pop, in their home before they move. They’ve lived in that house as long as I’ve been alive, and I became quite reflective as I sat in their lazy boy and talked about the farmer down the road one last time. Life is a weird thing. People always say it’s cyclical; fashion trends come and go, people get old and die and babies are born to take their place on the earth, and it all goes round and round. But this weekend I really felt that cycle, felt myself rushing forward with my hands spread wide to catch everything as it slips through my fingers, felt myself lay in the sun watching it all pass. A passive resistance. A comforting stability juxtaposed by the knowledge that nothing is stagnant. Life is dynamic, and that’s beautiful in its own right. At Mamma and Pop’s house, I took ...