A sports story captured my imagination, this week. Over and over, I’ve viewed a kayaker plunging over the 134-foot Salto del Maule waterfall, in Chile. The video opens with a lens-splashed vista from atop the falls, a brief descent down raging water past jutting rocks, ending with Dane Jackson landing safely in a swirling pool, below.

His kayak filled with water when the protective skirt flew off, flooding him out of his craft, but he was alive and happy. I felt chills, viewing it.

Happiness is ephemeral. It makes me happy to think of paddling my own sturdy little kayak at Yellow Creek Lake, next summer. That may be a pipe dream; I can’t imagine extracting myself from that minuscule boat.

Typically, I swung my legs over the side, anchored my feet in shallow water, crunched my knees close to my chest and pushed up with my arms. Not pretty, but it worked. At least for now, I can’t bend or twist like that without risking popping my new hip ball out of its joint.

My current reality is wobbling from the living room to the kitchen, cane in hand, concentrating on each step, but I have no trouble jumping back in time to when mobility came easily.

As a teen, I traveled to Colorado with Young Life, a group that shares God’s strong love with kids in exciting settings. One unforgettable image was of early YL president, Bob Mitchell, describing the humility of Jesus, who set aside his divinity and entered the world as one of us. In contrast, Bob said if he were God, he’d write in big letters across the sky, “I Am God!”

I close my eyes and see the rugged Rocky Mountain peaks above Frontier Ranch, dusted with snow in August. I remember one chilly morning riding horseback down a narrow trail, crossing a stony creek and catching a whiff of bacon awaiting us, cooking over a campfire.

Later, I returned as the dining hall manager of Star Ranch for six weeks. On vacation, a group of us leaders who jeeped to the top of a peak were snowed in and spent the night on the floor of a cozy, beamed lodge.

Young Life camps and their weekly meetings held in my family’s State College living room offered times when we were asked us to consider a God who says, Come now, let us reason together. . .though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool” (Isaiah 1:18 KJV).

We were presented with a rationale for Christianity in systematic ways that made me feel respected as an adult who could think, not a kid who needed to be entertained. Either Jesus was who he claimed to be, a fake or a lunatic, as C.S. Lewis wrote in Mere Christianity.

The evidence, and my heart, led me to accept Christ’s invitation to, “Follow Me.”

Despite living with cancer, visiting our son again in Colorado Springs and seeing the Broadmoor’s (easily accessible) seven cascading waterfalls is high on my bucket list.

Contentment, however, isn’t like ephemeral happiness that depends upon life being hunky dory. I no longer need a strong body to be content, or landscapes like a prized photograph of my honey and me sitting in a field of Indian paintbrush high above Colorado’s tree line.

That’s because inner peace is a state of mind and heart. God’s Word, penetrating my soul, nurtures contentment. I didn’t intentionally spend decades delving into Scriptures to prepare for the day when my body would slow me down. I did it as a pilgrim and life-long learner who wanted more to offer to others than fear of the unknown.

Without realizing it, I built my spiritual house upon the Rock. When all else fails, the Rock of God’s faithfulness remains. Jesus said storms come and winds blow, but that rock-solid foundation is trustworthy, far more dependable than my vulnerable old bones.

Unpredictable escapades are more than likely behind me. Following his risky ride over a Chilean waterfall, kayaker Dane Jackson said the skirt intended to keep water out of his boat was ripped off by the power of the falls. At times I feel my safety net is also is ripped away.

That’s when I cry to the Creator of waterfalls and mountains, who hides me in the cleft of the Rock and assures me:

“In Me you have peace.

In this world you’ll have trouble, but take heart!

I have overcome the world” (John 16:33, adapted).

All will be well.

Texting Thru Recovery/Indiana Gazette