Silent Reckoning

Photo by Sylvia Kirkendoll Mercer

I finally admitted to myself that while I prayed constantly, God never answered back. No words came to me. The feelings I experienced were my own.  And the events that happened after I prayed had only the meaning I attributed to them. 

It was painful.  I had poured out my life in service to someone who did not find me worthy of a response.

Friends tried to encourage me, saying that perhaps God is so great that I simply could not understand his communication. I accepted this thought for most of my life.  But I came to the conclusion that if God was all powerful, surely he could find a way to get through to me. (BTW, the story of God sending his Son is not direct communication, either). 

In one of my final one sided conversations with this unseen, unheard entity, I said “I will continue to care for people and do the things I assume are important to you because they’re important to me, too. If you decide someday to talk to me about that, I’m right here.”  As usual, I got no response but I quit expecting one and I went about my work. 

I still prayed publicly for the sake of my people.  I reflected their thoughts and hopes.  And I relied on the liturgies written by others. But my personal outpouring stopped.

God has remained silent, too.    

First Look at the Ocean

I finally got to show them the ocean. 

Photo by David Mercer, 2016

I promised a long time ago I would show it to them.  The older one was in first grade. The younger one hadn’t started preschool yet. I had wanted them to stand next to this mysterious organism to feel its rhythms and consider its unseen depths. 

It took a long time.  School, work, meager finances, and fatigue got in the way. Getting time off, driving hundreds of miles and securing lodging along the way was difficult. It had to be backburnered but I never forgot. It took two decades, two plane tickets, and a journey that included letting go of a career, a marriage, and my religion. But I didn’t forget my promise, even if they didn’t remember my making it. 

I took pictures of them when they first saw it, like when they were kids at Christmas and I wanted to capture their reaction as they opened an especially delightful gift.  I took one from behind as they surveyed the beach and the waves for the first time. 

Photo by Sylvia Kirkendoll, 2016

There’s another of the three of us. The happiest looking person is me. My sons’ facial expressions are minimal as they typically are at big moments.  I don’t know how they felt but that’s okay.  My goal was to get them there. What they do with their moment… well they may need to take some time to unpack all that.