I sat in solitude on the lake front. Nestled into a cozy chair that caught, supported my feeble body, I pondered the previous six days. Behind me, charter buses were making their exit: the hissing of their hydraulics; the squealing of their brakes; the percolation of their engines as they gained speed. Traces of adolescent screams, in tribute to a week gone by, trailed and disappeared with the exhaust fumes.
A hush covered the landscape. I could actually hear the distinct sounds of oars digging into the waters. The pristine chirps from small black birds darting across a pale blue sky amplified. The faintest whispers of trees swaying softly like a baby’s lullaby became the ruckus of mid-morning. I basked in this silence, catching glimpses of ripples reflected in the sunlight, wakes slapping up against the shore. And, I realized this was just the outer fringe.
Surrounded by a coliseum of pines, lounging on the floor of a deep basin, the backdrop of my day was something I would have not traded for the world. I had stared into this scenery for many years. I have studied its delicate detail – the jagged mountain peaks and the barricading walls of that steep, daunting granite. I have been enamored with such astounding beauty that I must readjust my eyes every time. I have discovered that the view is not just a life-sized postcard. It is real. The gaze never gets old.
The lake before me became a welcoming threshold extending, expanding out into greatness. Beyond its dam, a chasm carved its way, dropping into a deep canyon. All the while, the cumulus clouds floated above like blimps, hanging poised with the décor. These were sacred moments, hallowed times. It’s when God spoke. His love for me was voiced, again. I was gently asked to reaffirm my trust. If I reflected too long, the tears would well in my eyes…because it struck a chord embedded into the depths of me. My fears and all my insecurities surfaced. How easy I add to the noise to drown out sorrows!
God displayed His handiwork as I sat on the embankment not saying a word, just observing. His magnificent creation demonstrated. And to consider, these are but the outer fringes of His design! How much more He proves over and over His provisions for me. His faithfulness has been something He continues to teach me. I must trust having the appropriate stance to hear those faint whispers. They can serve both as a conduit ushering a peace that sustains, and motivating a life to be lived amid the ambiguity for what lies ahead. Do I trust? Will I listen?