The mama Painted Turtle carefully and intentionally came up out of the water of the peaceful quiet lake. Something inside had strongly compelled her to travel by foot up the bank, across quite a large expanse of grass, gravel and weeds until she found the spot she had subconsciously been searching for. It was firmly packed dirt and gravel, right next to a pipe head near the shower house at Bearhead Lake State Park. That same inner direction told her to select this spot, as unlikely as it seemed to human observance: right on a path often walked on by campers. She began digging a hole, and kept scraping out the gravel until it was about six inches deep.
I was fortunate enough to quietly observe as she deposited her pearly white treasures into that deep cavity in the ground. When the last egg had been laid, she carefully filled in the hole, patting and scraping it into place. She added dry leaves and grass over the top making it look like nothing had taken place there at all. The observing eye would not know that a treasure had been buried there unless they had seen it being done. When she was satisfied with the results of her work, she turned and headed back to her life in the water, knowing instinctively that she had fulfilled her purpose. She had so totally released the future life and well-being of her offspring, that she would never even know if they successfully hatched and made it to the lake, or not.
Then, after a prescribed amount of time, new life — multiples of it — emerged from that place of surrender as those precious pearls of life hatched out, releasing to the world a whole new generation of life.
The new baby turtles were so tiny, so vulnerable, but their instincts told them all they needed to know to dig their way up from under the ground, turn toward the lake and begin their new life in the water.
I observed this wonder of nature shortly after my brother’s death. The pain of losing the pillar of our family, combined with some other burdensome aspects of my own inner life, culminated in an anxiety attack or emotional breakdown of some kind. I had never experienced anything quite like that in my life, and I hope to never experience it again. I was in bad shape, dazed, almost unable to function normally, and recovering quietly at my daughter’s beautiful lake home when one afternoon we observed hatchling turtles coming up out of the ground. Then, two weeks later, I was continuing my quiet recovery in the peacefulness of northern Minnesota, when I observed the turtle laying her eggs. The two sets of photos are of completely different places and individuals.
The Lord showed me something early this morning in prayer. When pain is severe, when loss leaves a gaping wound, or we discover and encounter the huge “sack of rocks” we’ve been carrying for a very long time, we often stand before the Lord and pray for healing and relief, which is a great reaction to pain…but lately instead of standing and asking, what if I were to begin to kneel before Him, dig a hole like the turtle, and deposit all my issues in His loving presence, leave them in His hands, and trust Him to bring the result and outcome that He has specifically intended for me. All results would be placed into His hands and in His timing. I would no longer need to carry that heavy burden internally. I would be relieved of its impact, as I had entrusted everything into His hands. This does not mean I would never again suffer the pain of loss, etc., but the experience and memory would be strongly undergirded and tempered with His lovingkindness and purpose in my spiritual growth. Nothing would ever be wasted or compartmentalized (stuffed back into some deep corner of my soul, supposedly to be dealt with later, or not at all).
Just as our loving Father takes care of mother turtles and the safekeeping of their eggs, I can trust Him to take care of all of my treasures too…the traumas and the treasures, the positives and the negatives.
With God’s strength guiding me like the instinct of the mother turtle, I can choose to scrape the hard gravel of resistance aside, and scoop out a protective repository for my treasures as well as my troubles, right at the feet of my loving Savior. Sometimes the fear and pain are easier to release than the good treasures which I tend to clutch tightly. I then trustingly can deposit everything—all of it—there and entrust it into Hands that know far better than I what to do to bring new life to all of my situations, expectations, troubles and treasures.
So, I deposit my pearls into His care. I pat the last of the gravel and dead leaves into place and confidently trustingly turn and head back toward the water.
Something inside has changed, and I am ready to begin a new chapter of my life.
Art by Rhea 