I go there often. Usually I park alongside the swimming holes and veer sharply to my right to an out-of-the-way place on the lake that I like to call Canoe Corner. It probably has an official area name or something but I don't know it. All I know is the canoes line up here to sleep at night and I like where they bed down. I'll bet you would, too.
Most of the time I sit on the grass, or sometimes on a nearby bench, and watch the sun slip and fall and the water ripple and roll. But last night I didn't stop at the canoes or at the grass. Even though it had just rained, I kicked off my flip-flops and smooshed my way through the mud to the water's edge.
I stood there for what seemed like an hour's worth of watery, golden minutes. I didn't think, really, or wonder or pray or cry. I just stood as the water rolled into v-shaped ripples around my ankles and the silt swirled and fell around my feet.
Then I waded forward - swishswishswish - until I was so far in I couldn't see the silt swirl. I could almost reach the lily pads. Then, slowly, I gazed up at the burning-away sky and whispered, I'm here, Lord, at the water's edge. Holy God, please part this sea of loneliness. Part my red river of pain.*
And He will, I think. I think He was just waiting for me to ask. And I think before I ever did He was already stirring the waters.
Thanks for hanging in with me these last few days. Hope you have a weekend of blessed peace. -Brin
*Lyrics from Moses as sung by Patty Griffin on Living With Ghosts.