And The River Flows

From my journal dated March 25, 2012

From my vantage point under my new friend, the Old Oak Tree, the water at the bottom of the lake bed is now easily visible, and it is flowing. 

As the sun’s rays dance on the surface of the southerly flow, it is as though the waters are singing a joyous song of redemption, proclaiming praise to the Giver of life. No one needs to instruct this river where to go. Its waters flow naturally and with purpose in constant movement to the music of their life song. The birds sing along as bees and butterflies prance among the flowers in a full-on presentation to the rest of creation.

My own life seems sometimes to lack this kind of divine flow – the effortless sense of simply being in the flow of what I was designed to be and to do. There are days I long for my existence to be simple – uncomplicated, when I yearn to escape from the pressure cooker that seems to define my waking moments. 

But then I remember that I am fearfully and wonderfully made, crafted by the same fingers that smeared mud on the eyes of a blind man to restore his sight. 

I remember that my moments, every last one of them, are nestled safely in the in the palm of the same hands that blessed five loaves of bread and two fish, multiplying them to feed thousands. 

I remember that the same voice that spoke the whole of creation into existence now gently whispers my name, calling me to come away with Him to a secret place where we can dwell together. 

When I remember these things and take them to heart, the refrain of my own life song begins to reawaken within me. The flow is being restored, and it is well with my soul.