The fly fisherman, seemingly without a care in the world, leaned back, ripples of river swirling around his knees. A glint of sunlight skipped across the water as the dawn opened its eyes. Raising his fishing rod strategically upward, sideways, and a little bit backward, he snapped his wrist and released the reel.
The whirling sound of fishing-line-set-free filled the air. It soared over the river, arching in the gentle breeze …
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‘Jesus turned, and seeing her He said, ‘Take heart, daughter; your faith has made you...
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Kneeling by my bed, I poured out the pain of my heart to the Lord. Tears streamed as anguish gripped me — pain so deep no words could adequately describe it. Surely Job must have felt this way with groanings too deep for words.
Pure exhaustion washed over me. Then stillness as I knelt in His Presence and peace enveloped me once again.
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Father, I hold fast to the knowledge that You are not a god of confusion, but a God of peace. You are my sure place in an ever-changing world … my hiding place. When life is chaotic, You are my peace.
How can I thank You, Lord? Your faithfulness reaches to the clouds. You hover above the chaos and bring order.
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My geranium sat neglected. Difficult life circumstances had taken priority and now the once lush and bountiful geranium looked … sad. Yellowed leaves edged in crumbly brown. Flowers, once plentiful, now barely raised their heads alone. Dry and thirsty was she.
The soil had become crusty. Hard. Void of life-sustaining nutrients.
Much like a child of God finding herself in a desert wilderness at the base of the mountain dry and thirsty, knowing she should be soaring from its peak.
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Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference
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