My family and I spent seven days in Mexico recently. For seven days we walked the beach, tended to our sunburns, swam in the deep blue sea and filled our plates with food. I was grateful to have my family close to me and to be out of the cold and away from the laundry. While we were there, I got a text from my dad telling me that my mom was in the hospital being treated for blood clots on her lungs. Three years ago, my mom was diagnosed with a rare incurable disease and its progression has been devastating. But this caught us all off guard.
“She has to stay in the hospital for seven days, my dad said, but the Drs are confident they can turn this around.”
I was relieved by my dad’s words, knowing my mom was in good hands but I couldn’t help but think about how different my seven days were from my mom’s. I felt helpless, guilty and anxious. I looked at the palm trees gently sweeping the blue, blue sky and I took a breath and asked God why I was here breathing in this paradise while my mom lay in a hospital bed, barely breathing.
I stood for a long time waiting for an answer, but all I felt was the wind in my hair.On our last day, my husband and I walked the beach slowly, taking in everything around us. I felt the sun on my body, the sand in my toes and watched the waves rolling in. We searched the sea shore and picked up three rocks each one unique in size, texture, and color.
All of them shaped like hearts.

I thought about how far these rocks must have traveled and it felt a little like the sea had poured out a gift.

I brought the three heart-shaped rocks home with me and called my mom. The disease has taken most of her words but she is still able to manage a few at a time. When I asked her how she felt, she said slowly but confidently, “I feel cared for.”

And at that moment, I understood that my question to God might not have been the right one. ALL of us will experience both pleasure and pain and suffering. This is the path we walk as humans. But along the way, whatever our circumstances, our hearts, like those rocks that were washed ashore will be shaped and molded and shaped again. The heart determines our attitude. The heart tells our stories best. The heart pumps and beats and pumps and beats. And the waves rush in and whisper, “I love you, I love you, I love you!”

My mom says her heart is at peace. I imagine it looks a lot like the smooth white rock we found at the beach. Today, my heart feels like it’s porous, allowing everything inside like the little brown rock with the tiny holes in it, but tomorrow it will change and next year and ten years from that it will look entirely different again, because God is at work, refining us as our story unfolds.

And so, I bow my head low and ask a different question. Lord, will you shape my heart to look like yours? I surrender to you.
And a quick and quiet yes washes over me like the sea, the sea.

What about you, friend? What’s going on in your life and what does your heart look like these days? Is it open, soft and joyful or is it anxious, weary and scarred? Ask God to show you what you need to see. Talk about it with someone close to you and know that God loves you.

Karen has honed her craft by taking courses and workshops at York University, The University of Toronto and the Humber School for Writers. As a member of Hope Writers community, She believes good writing comes from practice, reading and being still, observing the beauty of the moment. She writes from her heart and loves to connect with others. She lives in Ottawa with her husband, two daughters and a rescue dog from Houston Texas. Instagram: karenharrison_writer Website- liliesandlaundry.com