Whispers of Life and Hope
The trees are Old Growth Douglas Fir and they tower high and stand protectively over this spot along the water. The ferns abound, gathering here and there in orchestrated welcome. This spring the creek is full but not engorged as sometimes it can be as the snow in the higher hills journeys down, through this sanctuary. Rich, clear, clean water pours through a channel carved in the stone creek-bed. It pools around a large rock with room for 10 or more to sit upon it, but today there is only one.
I come here to sit and think. Really I come here to drink in the peace and faithful murmur of this place. I don’t know how it comes to be here or why this land hasn't been “cut and cleared” but I love that it is here. It gives me strength to be here. It gives me hope to know this place exists. I could fish here, but I enjoy sitting silently. I have to hike to get in to this spot but when I arrive, I want nothing more than to be still and listen to the water, the air in the trees, the echo of my thoughts – the whole of the place. The reassurance of this spot speaks to me.
If I were omnipotent and wise, I might love my people with places like this. To meet them quietly and eagerly with such a tender active voice as this setting speaks would be a great delight.
Perhaps in the grandest scheme of things this was build for me, or I was built to yearn for such places and moments as this. When I am here, I simply cannot but pray. Perhaps that is why I journey here, when prayer eludes me. For everything here is alive in prayer and curiously gives life to me. I can only nod my head in grateful thanks of this grace.
God of all that is living, is this the language which you give that, perchance you speak with me? I pray it is so.
Mitch Watney
Psalm 23:1-3a
What a blessing, that you have such a beautiful place to be in God's presence.
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