What I Saw By the River

The wind is blowing against my face, my arm, my side. It lifts my hair and cools the back of my neck. It teases me - blowing, then stopping; gusting strongly, then stilling; changing directions.

The sun is hot against my back. I feel my body soaking up the rays. Even my eyes feel the penetrating warmth of the sun.

The birds fly by, singly and in groups of three. Some pass quickly - they are on a mission; they have young ones to feed. Others dip and swoop as they go; there is joy and freedom in their flight.

The river is wide here. It bubbles and crests over the rocks. A deep channel in the river is filled with swiftly moving water. This water moves with purpose; with energy and drive. It is single-minded in its rush to the sea. But here, near the shore, the water is much friendlier. Warmer. Welcoming. It, too, is moving, but this water knows it has time to accomplish more than just one purpose. It can explore. It can play. It can be diverted to springs and streams and pools. It can nurture life.

When I close my eyes and open my ears, I hear three distinct sounds. The first is the sound of wind in the trees. Without opening my eyes I can see the leaves dancing. The sound of the wind mingles with the sound of the river as it bubbles and skips over the rocks. The river is always moving, and I suppose, if I listened long enough, I would hear changes in the noise it makes, as water levels rose and fell; as rocks were added or carried away. Perhaps even as the aquatic life within it changed. But for me, here and now, the river is a constant sound that fills my hearing, and so, I cease to notice it. The final sound I hear is that of a cricket in the nearby grass. He is very loud. Such a high-pitched sound; and so brief. Yet I sense the message he is proclaiming over and over with such regularity. It is: "Praise Him. Praise Him. Praise Him".

I want to paint what I see and hear. I want to capture the movement of the birds as they rise and fall, wings a-blur; free in the air above the river. I want to draw this little moth, so small and white; so random in its movements. Even this simple creature is enjoying the day - the water and the sun and the wind. I want to paint these rocks. There are so many. I want to paint them, but I don't want to take the time to sketch each one, in all its uniqueness. My whole world is suddenly full of rocks.

What a beautiful day. What a beautiful world. Thank You, Lord, for giving me eyes to see and ears to hear the beauty You have made. Thank You. Because even if I can't draw or paint it, I can use these words to describe it, and bring it to life for those who cannot see and cannot hear. Thank You, Lord.