My Life As A Stalagmite

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Stalagmites are formed by the constant dripping of countless water droplets rich in minerals from the ceilings to the floors in caverns. They are formed in the silence and the darkness, deep in the bowels of the earth. Droppings, darkness, the depths, can anything good or beautiful come out of these? Bit by bit, the droplets fall. Till one day, Mother Nature produces a marvel of awesome beauty and enormous proportions.

Often, I define the value of something, or sometimes even someone, by the end product. A happy moment, a successful event, an accomplished person. These are what I want to see and have. But the real marvel and miracle happen during the many precious moments of a long and arduous process to produce the end. The water droplets, dripping constantly in the empty darkness and the silent depths, would never see the purpose nor the process that produces the awesome stalagmite rising from the cavern floor in all its awesome splendor.

There are similar moments of darkness and emptiness in my life. Often, I find myself alone. There are times I feel like sinking in a bottomless quagmire of desolation and purposelessness. I am battered by the countless and constant dripping of small and mundane problems.There would be people and events that would make the darkness even darker and the emptiness even emptier. There are times when the drops become a torrent and the resulting deluge would almost sweep me into oblivion.

I long for the love and care of my loved ones. I hunger for the affection and attention of family and friends. Life is difficult and the road seems peppered with crosses along the way. I long for company who will share my crosses. I long for people who would care to help me carry these crosses. Caring people and my loved ones would try to shield me from the drops or take away my crosses. But that would be like pulling out the pupa out of its cocoon even before it is ready to stretch out its wings as a butterfly.

Yet, in the depths and darkness of the cavern, no help ever comes. The unrelenting drops of water just keep on coming. Until in the dark emptiness and during that deep silence, a miracle happens and the marvel of the stalagmite sculpture is created.

My life is a constant series of precious moments where God shapes me and creates me into the marvel and miracle he has destined me to be. There will be darkness, solitude and crosses along the way. I will trust that even in the depths he is creating in me another of His creations of awesome beauty and miraculous marvel. His love is enough for me.

“He turned and said to them, ‘Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. . . . So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.'”
Luke 14:25-30,33

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2 Responses to My Life As A Stalagmite

  1. Raoul says:

    Verne, your sharing is an inspired moment. Thank you. It reminds us that, no matter what happens in our lives, we are always firmly in the path God has given to us; and that at the end of that path is communion with Him, the final marvel of awesome beauty and proportions (to borrow your words).

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