I am inside the Chicago aquarium; one step inside and I am five years old again—nose to glass, palms flattened, dignity floating away like a bubble. A ballerina-jelly swirls past; a moody grouper regards me like a bored museum guard; a school of silver arrows turn together as though they’d paid good money for a choreographer.
And in this childlike hush, I know exactly what I want to do: hold the moment up against my own words in my latest book: Tsippy’s Story and see if the light shines through the same way.
And I open my manuscript to Chapter Fifteen, the Fifth Day:
‘Now, to those who believe that life just evolved by chance — sit tight and marvel at what’s swimming beneath the surface. Yes, fish — those delightful little swimmers that turn a simple pond into a living kaleidoscope.
Look closely — notice their stunning colours — rich blues, deep purples, bright reds, and shimmering yellows. Perhaps to the fish, these colours are just handy labels — a way to spot their own species or attract a mate. But to us? They’re pure artistry! When I see a vividly patterned fish darting about, I can’t help but applaud the Creator for His splendid sense of colour.
And it’s not just colour — the shapes and sizes of fish are equally mesmerizing. Some are long and sleek, others short and stubby, and a few look as though they swam straight out of a cartoon! For the fish, shape may be all about survival, but for us? It’s a gallery of living sculptures, each form speaking of a Designer who wasn’t just practical but playful too.
Now, watch how they move! Isn’t it magical? Some glide like ballet dancers, others dash about like energetic toddlers, and a few barely seem to move at all — as though meditating in motion. Movement is what makes fish come alive; it’s what turns a still pond into a scene of vibrant energy. Ever wonder why staring at an aquarium feels so calming? It’s that gentle dance of movement — like liquid poetry unfolding before your eyes.
And here’s something worth pondering — movement isn’t just about energy; it’s about connection. A still pond feels lifeless, but fill it with moving fish, and suddenly the whole place feels alive. Movement brings harmony, blending the fish, the water, and even the viewer into one calming rhythm. That’s why a bubbling fish tank can soothe an anxious mind better than any tablet or meditation app.
Just think, yes I mean really ponder on this that Our all-knowing God wanted that!’
I move out of my book, and here I am—Chicago outside selling speed, scale, and skyscrapers; Chicago inside, selling silence in motion. I smile as a clownfish tells a joke in orange and white.
I walk to the lake breeze outside with a receipt for faith, and a smile of sadness at fools who still do not believe in a Creator…!