The river keeps on rolling . . .

Does a river ever come to a certain point and say, "Hmmm, I like it here. The banks are soft and comfortable, the trees are nice . . . I think I'll stay right here!"

No. Rivers keep moving. Always changing.

I hate change.

No, wait -- let me rephrase. I hate change unless I initiate it. If it's my idea, then it's fine and I'll go full steam ahead! But when things change that are out of my control, I get really uncomfortable. And the world around me usually gets to hear about it! I have yet to learn how to go with the flow all the time. Or even go with the flow of change peacefully or submissively.

The kind of change that hurts me the most, that affects me the deepest, is loss. Most change involves loss of one kind or another, but sometimes the things gained far outweigh whatever may be lost.

But only sometimes.

Tonight as I sat watching the fireworks, I wanted the river to stop. To flow backwards, actually. I've seen fireworks many times, in many different places in the country (and in the world!) in my lifetime. I love fireworks!

But tonight as I watched, I was transported in my mind to a time years ago when I was a little girl. I remember being at a fireworks display with my parents and being scared because it was so loud, and I could feel the earth shaking under us with each terrifying boom. I was so scared that I couldn't even open my eyes to enjoy the beautiful colors! I just remember crying and wanting to go home.

But then my daddy reached out, lifted me onto his lap and guided my attention to the sky. He told me that it was OK, he would protect me, and that if I looked I would see something really pretty.

I remember settling into his lap, feeling so secure and safe, plugging my ears and being absolutely in awe at the beauty of the display.

And as I sat tonight, watching the beautiful colors once again, I found myself looking up further into the heavens, wondering, "Daddy, can you see them from up there? Can you see me? I'm not scared anymore. I miss you, but I'm not scared. Thank you for teaching me to look beyond my fear and into the beauty."

How is it that I, who hate change so much, can be so in love with the river? How is it that I feel such a sense of constancy from something that is always changing? Maybe it is because the river keeps going -- regardless. It perseveres over boulders, through crevices, loss or no loss, pushing, pushing, pushing, and it doesn't allow anything to keep it from moving on.

The river is an inspiration to me.