Momma has a lot to say about water!  Here’s her journal entry.

As I look at the water texture images on our website, I am reminded of how often I have referenced water in my life in the last 4 years.   These years have been some of the hardest years of my life, where I’ve experienced the lowest of lows.  For about a year, I felt like I was drifting in a sea of confusion and sadness, periodically being pulled under the waves.   I had my own wave after wave of pain, and my husband had his own waves.  Sometimes, I was on the beach watching him out at sea, desperate to help him, but unable to get to him.   Other times, a sleeper wave came and grabbed me off that beach, and I was the one drifting away, crying out for a lifeline. 

Eventually, my husband and I made it out of those turbulent waters, only to be smacked in the face by a rainstorm of soaking pain, losing loved ones, and what felt like, parts of our identities.  During this time, I didn’t see the textures of the world, and a barely felt the splendor that surrounded me.  I didn’t notice the rusted metal, the tree bark, the fibers of rope, the patterns in brick, or the character of worn leather.  Water wasn’t beautiful to me…it was harsh, deceitful and dangerous.   Everything was dull, flat and dimensionless.  

I can’t even pinpoint when I started to feel again, but we fought our way out of the pain, swam back to shore, walked through the rainstorm and into the healing sunlight.  Day by day, my world came alive with colors.  Layers and layers of textures fell into place and I began to not only “see” the world, but to appreciate it for every piece of broken glass, rotting board, dried flower, and cracked concrete.  Water didn’t scare me anymore…it reflected light back to me. 

The rains came again…but this time they brought hope and the promise of life. It was on a rainy day last year that our son came to us.  And on this rainy day, as I look at these water textures, I know that those drenching years shaped us, polished us and strengthened us.