When I was about twelve years old, my sister and I saw a mermaid in Lake Garfield, the lake that’s just down the hill from our house. We were out on the rowboat at night with our family, and sure enough, on a big rock that marks a bend in the lake’s shore, we saw her. We re-named the site Mermaid Rock, and to this day I hold to the story, regardless of its factual content.

The lake has been a comforting and terrifying presence my whole life. While there are no verified reports of shark attacks, lake monsters or even nebulous fish-like-women creatures, I will never be rid of a lurking terror at what’s under the surface.

Around the age I saw the mermaid, I had a scary dream about the beach side of the lake, the place with a roped in swimming area and lifeguards during the day. In my dream, it was night-time, and I was standing on the raft that’s on the scarier side of the swimming area. Mind you, there’s nothing really dangerous about this side- just a little deeper than the other side, with some more fish and seaweed mixed in. I also have to mention, for those unacquainted with the lake, that we call these rafts “docks” even though they’re not connected to land.

So I’m on the dock, and the rope that runs from the dock back to shore starts slipping into oblivion, being sucked toward the shore. An unnamed, ghostlike force is pulling the buoys that demarcate “swimming area” from “wild area” out of my reach. The boundary between safety and danger is disappearing. And there’s no one there to help- it’s just little me against this mysterious presence.

There was always something much too real about this nightmare. There are so many mysterious forces beyond my knowing in the lake. There are thousands of fish who make their homes there, water snakes and even beavers at times. Geese and herons, all varieties of seaweed and snails, and who knows, maybe even mermaids. There is the residue of all who’ve swum in the lake, and the promise of all who will. I am just jumping into something that’s outside of my control.

And yet this ecosystem that has so many foreign and unknown parts is also my home. I have always felt whole in the water, in my zone, in my habitat. This summer, only a couple days have gone by that I haven’t been in the water since I returned home a month ago. Every morning, I wade in, and swim, and leave the water changed. I am sustained by the life swimming and breathing and sprouting up all around me. It restores my body and my soul.

After a shift waiting tables this past Sunday, I jumped into the lake without a clear sense of how far I’d swim. I quickly passed the buoys, into the danger zone, the unknown. Seaweed tangled up around my arms, strange sensations prickled up in my legs, and I had no clue how deep the water was. Before I knew it, I was smack-dab in the middle of the lake. Halfway between the island and the swimming area.

I’d only ever swum out to the island once or twice before, always with my dad. Since I had heard about the legendary island swim as a child, and watched my dad do it time after time, I had always dreamed of it. I thought swimming out there would make me an adult. I’d be capable. I’d be unafraid.

But now, in the middle of the lake, I was totally afraid. No one knew I was out there. Sure, there were some people on shore, and some boats about, but no one was keeping tabs on me. Yes, I’d been swimming every day this summer, attuning myself to the water and the weeds, but never this far from shore. Never so much on my own. Needless to say, it’s moments like this that make for some of my most desperate prayers.

And I realized that I was like a mermaid, between worlds. Between human and fish, beauty and fear, surrender and control. The lake cannot be the thrilling and life-giving force it is without also being a world of unknowns. It has to be a mystery to sustain.

And so, in the middle of the lake, I realized I could not turn around. I had to keep going. I had to keep fighting for the mermaids. I had to keep coming into an adulthood that’s not marked by more certainty, but colored by appreciation and awe of that nightmare I had as a kid. Of the collision between fear and sweet awe within those events in life that force us to realize that we are not in control.

The last verse of the hymn “Holy God, We Praise Thy Name” in my church’s hymnal goes:

Holy Father, Holy Son,

Holy Spirit, Three we name Thee;

While in essence only One,

Undivided God we claim Thee.

And adoring, bend the knee,

While we own the mystery;

And adoring, bend the knee,

While we own the mystery.

The relationship within the Trinity, even between us and all around us and God, will always remain a mystery. There is an “other” that lives and moves and sustains beyond what we can understand, and yet we are invited into its One-ness. Our confusions and fears and wonders are not eliminated but brought into this fold. They are often our greatest teachers, I suspect. And what my old and wise friend the lake teaches me is just what this hymn suggests- to jump in and own this mystery.