The pond is full of trash and mud and turbulence tonight.
Less introspective people may see my beloved pond as merely a catch basin for an elaborate flood control system (very important here in Missouri, where the topsoil is thinner than Nicole Ritchey).
I see it as a daily source of inspiration and reflection.
We had a torrential rainstorm this afternoon. This wasn’t cats and dogs, it was elephants and hippos.
Rain smashed into the pond’s surface so hard the splashes collected in an opaque mist above the water. Enormous concrete spillways funneled runoff from the entire neighborhood into the pond. Water rushed down the lawns, driveways, and streets, carrying with it topsoil and garbage of every description.
A dark ribbon of filth unfurled itself from the mouth of each spillway. Somewhere about the middle of the pond, the ribbons melted into one another and the gray-green water took on the look of hot chocolate.
With water streaming in from so many directions, ripples overran one another until it was impossible to tell the difference between the cause and the effect.
All this continued until the rain stopped and the streams narrowed into trickles. Eventually, the trash floated away and the mud settled to the bottom. In time, the reflections emerged again.
As I watched, I realized the pond's drama is a lot like my own. Frantic activity stirs up the mud in my head and heart until I can’t really see where I am or where I’m headed. It's not until I find the stillness within that the garbage can float away and the mud can settle.
Hope I remember all this the next time storms rage inside me.