SEA OF TRANQUILITY

SEA OF TRANQUILITY 

Floating on my sea of compassion, I absorb the rays of Your Presence—building me, moving me, making me what I am. I see, my sea, each day, as a new love story, in tranquil surroundings. Therefore what shall I partake in today? You have covered my shoulders, with Your warmth of calmness and peace, instilling them into my heart. This is my coat for each day. When I part with this coat, is when you send me, for the needs of someone else await my gift. Therefore whom shall I give it to? I am ready to serve, for I look for those who shiver in their cold of self. 

For it is Your Cross that pulls my boat; my spirit you fill. Your Cross stands upright in my vessel, pointing to the heavens—Your arms stretched outward embracing and propelling my spirit. Your compassion steers my heart and my soul. Your compassionate Heart, fills my sails, with the needs You bestow upon them—sailing me place to place, heart to heart, giving Your presence a place to be, a place to grow. You have cast out a rope for me, to help pull along anyone, who is adrift. To those that are lost and have no one, is where you sail me. Your Cross is my reminder of Your ultimate Sacrifice of compassion. A compassion that goes unnoticed, untouched in many hearts. 

The peace of my sea is endless, like the horizon. In silence is where I find You. In magical moments You speak—in gentleness of the twinkling stars, winking at me; a shooting star, an exclamation point— to let me know you watch over me. A sunset that kisses the water and gives radiance to my solitude. A mist of raindrops, bounce ripples of Your Presence pinging upward from the water. The face of the moon, your night light, guides my way shining down on me, from Your sea of tranquility, to another. The bird that flies and calls out is You. For your compassion has many faces—many shapes. For in these times you show Your face to me, and I glow in Your Presence. 

For it is You who can stand up in a boat—with one hand, calm the sea. For this is beyond my comprehension, but instills in me the greatness of Your gifts. You have given me control, to calm, one wave, at a time. For the beggar's eyes I look into, are still hungry when I leave him. I cannot cure him, but I can help him, one wave at a time. This is what my Lord asks of me. I can do things one wave, at a time. One compassionate wave building, calming, carrying me to the next heart, the next soul. My sailing vessel can carry many hearts, many burdens, many challenges—for Your mercy has no boundaries, and gives me strength, to sail my vessel on Your compassionate map, further and further. You have given me freedom to cry my tears, for it is Your compassion that I feel inward for others. 

It is beyond me to work miracles, but I can perform overtures of action, which create them. For many have great thoughts, of great things, but lack the desire to make them happen. For You have given me the criteria for miracles: it is in deep compassionate moments and mercy of goodness that call onto Your grace. For You have gifted me personally, with great works of Your goodness. For many can fit in a boat—but many refuse to pick up an oar. Further still, picking up an oar does little, for it is the action of movement which propels the craft. Greater yet, is the one who plots your course. For the navigator knows the best way to your destination. In compassion he will tell you which way is the safest—not the fastest. If not for his wisdom and knowledge, you could fall prey to thieves, and end up adrift with no rescue. For this reason, your journey is long and has many different callings. For each journey has different people with difficult conflicts, waiting to be rescued from islands of isolation. Where my boat takes me, is where I plant my anchor, to rest for awhile. For each journey, is one wave at a time. From island to island I meet the beggar's eyes, confronting them, in a different face. This beggar, is always somewhere, someplace. For he is like a lost caterpillar, inching along hoping someone will pick him up, to help him, to restore his sense of direction. The beggar and the caterpillar—two of the same, for each one carries what he owns on his back, walking to nowhere. 

So it is with you: when you meet someone, make sure when you leave him, he is better off for knowing you. Give something of yourself that will last. For if you give him food to eat, he will soon be hungry and forget about you, and look to another for his next meal; whereas if you also give of the spirit, he will remember you in thanksgiving, that your eyes found his soul. For the soul is also hungry, and the spirit will give him the patience he needs, while he waits. 

One wave at a time, waiting for the next. One wave pushing on the other—carrying my vessel closer to shore, of another island—on this, my sea of tranquility.

Robert J. Varrick 

rjvarrick@gmail.com