Skipping Stones and Gliding Deep

As a child, I attended a summer camp on Lake George where the water is often placid in the morning, perfect for skipping one of the countless flat stones lying on the shore. My friends and I would have competitions, and we tried to see how far out we could skip a stone, how many times we could get it to skip, and eventually how big a splash we could make.

 BING . . . . . . . BING . . . . .BING . . . . BING. . BING . .bing .bingbingbing!

Like machinegun fire, the stones would skip along the surface and entertain for hours. Eventually, once the stone had reached its course, it would submerge and glide its way to the bottom.

Remembering these childhood skipping contests, I can’t help be see the similarity between skipping stones and the way I have lived my life. Born with innate energy and love of life, I was like the stone skipping on the surface of the lake.  Everything was done with gusto.  The bigger, or faster, the better. If I drew people’s attention, even better.

But while life on the surface can be exciting and dramatic, it can also be exhausting. Although I remained on the surface for a while, I am happy to report that I have submerged and made my way to deeper waters. In college, I stayed on the intellectual surface and did enough to pass my classes but learn little. In relationships, I danced on the surface where it was light and carefree, but knew, and was known by, no one. Even my faith skated on the surface, speaking and acting in a way that revealed shallow waters.

There is life beneath the surface, and I only wish I had found it earlier. I do not regret the excitement of my youth on the surface, but I wish I hadn’t stayed there so long. My life is no longer dramatic, nor do I live for the attention I once did. Now I find comfort and enjoyment gliding to a deeper place.