Constancy

I didn't go to the river this morning. When I went running at 5am yesterday, the waters were receeding and my jogging trail was once again usable, although terribly muddy. I decided to sleep in today rather than go running. (Sunday being a day of rest and all) But I miss it. There is something about getting there, and sitting on the banks. Seeing that all is well. The river is still there, still flowing.

It speaks to my soul.

It says, 'No matter what you're going through, be it a flood or a jam, things will eventually return to normal and life will go on. Just have faith that the God Whose hand is on the river is the same God Whose hand is on your life.'

And it brings me peace.

Every time.

Another reason I love to go to the river is that there is a spot that I love to sit -- it's on a rock and it's sheltered so that if I sit facing the river, I can forget the neighborhoods and city behind me. Especially in the early morning when it is so still and quiet. It is the perfect place to sort out my thoughts. To pray, to seek God's guidance.

Sometimes He is silent.

Sometimes I am silent.

But I always come away nourished and at peace. It's as if the gentle waves and ripples, or the serenity of a perfectly smooth surface, work their way into my soul and work the same magic on the raging insanity of my thoughts. Similar to how a magnet takes electrons that are all jumbled and causes them to line up and face the same direction. (I looked that up online 'cuz I couldn't remember the proper terms, so if I still have it wrong, blame the Department of Energy's 'Ask a Scientist' website!)

If the river could feel, would it feel pain? There are environmental changes that affect the river and it can not resist the changes. Winter, for example, brings freezing temperatures. Does the river ever say, 'NO!! I don't WANT to be frozen! I want to run freely!'

I remember listening to a book on tape as a child. It was by Ethel Barrett (a wonderful children's author) and it was about a body of water. Stream, lake, river, I can't recall. I don't remember much of the story line except that it took place in the wintertime and the water was frozen over.

The part that I remember most clearly is the water resisting the ice, saying "GET OFF MY BACK!!" and feeling crushed and restricted.

I frequently feel that way. When the pressures and troubles of my circumstances try to force me into a box, or a mold. When they hold me captive.

What about rocks? Rivers encounter rocks. At times there are many. Enough to create a set of whitewater rapids. That certainly provides a thrill for those of us that love to go whitewater rafting!! But does the river enjoy that?

There are rocks in my life as well. Boulders, really. And they frequently create a rolling, frothing, explosive reaction. Unlike the river, I doubt that anyone gets any pleasure out of my "whitewater rapids"! It's more like a volcanic explosion, I'm afraid.

But once again, the rapids do not last forever, -- nor does winter -- and eventually, the circumstances subside. Ice melts, rocks are bypassed, and the river resumes its more gentle flow.