I have this romanticist’s notion the ocean is made from the tears of all of us: the myriad of fears and regret of life’s past and memories long forgotten. Each salty atom the remainder of a moment of pain or joy; some portion of our soul left as a reminder of time.
In my morosity of self-pity, a melancholic frame, set aside like All Hallows Eve, I recall the death of some happiness once held, but now vanquished by the vagaries of Fate. Tears, awash in the Depths of God’s grace.
But God picks up these tears and distills the salty pain, transforming the bitter taste of things long past into the fresh, cleansing, quenching dew, torrential rain, or glistening snow falling on the mountains of our sins. Renewing the parched desert of our hearts and imbuing us with sacred life anew. Each drop of his precious blood, pure and holy, poured into the vessel of my mind: the unending circles of time turning round and round. Past and present mixed into the vast sea of forgetfulness and memory alike.
So frolic in this ocean we call life. Accept each drop of time, whether sweet or swill, as a portion of God’s tears for us. For he bears the full weight of our every sin and shame and holds within his heart the promise of our joy eternal. Live in that eternalness, knowing this is but a moment. Knowing we will all languidly laze in the peaceful calm of a new heaven and a new earth around a sea flowing from God’s enduring love.