Sometimes we find help from unexpected sources.

For me, it was the documentary “My Octopus Teacher.” The award-winning film chronicled a year in the life of Craig Foster, who had returned to his childhood passion, diving in the bone-chilling waters off the southern tip of Africa in an attempt to heal from a debilitating depression and rediscover his purpose in life.

Foster found that the healing power of the ocean included a very special relationship with an unexpected cephalopod friend. He first discovered her as she was hiding within a self-made turret of various shells held in place by the suction cups on her legs.  A short time later, he would watch her build a similar structure as she tried to fend off a shark attack.

From that first moment, he made the decision to spend time with her every day for a little more than a year, the average life expectancy for an octopus. During this time, he would learn an amazing amount of information about her habits, her intelligence, and even her personality. He would also go from being a potential predator to a companion, who at times, was allowed to accompany her on a hunt, or a friend who would benefit from an octopus hug or a bit of tentacle holding.

What I saw unfolding during his daily visits was a human being with the ability to be sensitive to the needs of another creature and an abiding trust developing between them. The first time she reached out her tentacle to touch Foster’s hand and leave it there for a while, I was moved to tears. How silly, one might think.

But in the give and take of this unusual relationship, amid the incredible beauty of a kelp forest, it was easy to see the workings of God, who, we are taught, can be understood and seen through the things God has made.

Foster’s story reminded me of the many scientists and naturalists who have shared their healing experiences in nature, including John Burroughs, an eminent American nature essayist and favorite of my father, probably because Burroughs was born and raised in the Catskills, relatively close to our family home in Albany, where my dad and I often spent Saturdays walking the trails and being immersed in the magic of the Helderbergs.

“I go to nature to be soothed, healed and have my senses put in order,” wrote Burroughs, something I had long ago forgotten – much to my detriment.

In a news interview last year, Foster said that the greatest lesson the octopus taught him is that humans are part of the natural world, and not simply visitors.

“Our own role and place in the natural world is singularly the most precious gift we have been given,” he acknowledged.

How much he sounded like Pope Francis, who reminds us of the Franciscan wisdom of “St. Bonaventure, who said that creation is the first ‘book’ that God opens before our eyes, so that marveling at its order, its variety and its beauty, we can come to love and praise its Creator. In this book, every creature becomes for us ‘a word of God.’

“In the silence of prayer, we can hear the symphony of creation calling us to abandon our self-centeredness in order to feel embraced by the tender love of the Father and to share with joy the gifts we have received. We can even say that creation, as a network of life, a place of encounter with the Lord and one another, is ‘God’s own ‘social network.’”

Certainly, that’s a social network much better for the human spirit, especially the spirit of a child, than the technology to which we’ve become so addicted.

Pope Francis also warns, “We are losing our attitude of wonder, of contemplation, of listening to creation, and thus we no longer manage to interpret within it what Benedict XVI calls ‘the rhythm of the love story between God and man.’”

We may never become divers or make friends with an octopus, but even a walk in the park and some fresh air can be restorative. Our connection with nature is essential for the good of all. When our wonder and awe of the mystery of creation diminishes, and we lose sight of the love between God and humanity, we lose our grasp on the love that can make us whole.

Mary Clifford Morrell is the author of “Things My Father Taught Me About Love” and “Let Go and Live: Reclaiming your life by releasing your emotional clutter.”