Skip to main content


As the horizon began to break open with fresh morning light, my husband, then boyfriend would roll into my driveway.
I'd climb in the old jeep filled with fishing poles and tackle boxes. Forty five minutes later we would arrive at a secluded forest area on the side of some country road, one steep river bank up from the river.
After making our way down a sharply steep bank of underbrush we would find ourselves at river's edge.
The air would be muggy and damp. Water swirling over thousands of smooth earth colored river stones.
River fishing involves moving down the river.  According to my husband you can't stay in the same place.  You must keep moving. 
Usually at some point in the early morning he would decide we had to cross the river.
I never enjoyed crossing the river.
One humid July morning he walked into the deep water and methodically made his way across step by step.
The river was high due to rain and I didn't feel great about crossing.
He had made it look easy, but a few steps into the thigh deep water I felt the strong pull of the rivers' current. 
I didn't want to say I needed help.  I wanted to make it without help. So I decided I had to do this myself.
To cross the river it required I step surely on slick river rocks while steadying myself against the strong current. 
I had to surely put my foot down.  My full weight planted to steel myself against the current.  Otherwise I would topple in the startling cold water and be swept downriver.
I had to focus.
Foot finding each rock, bearing all my weight down and then finding another rock. It required a lot of concentration and a certain amount of confidence.
I remember the next morning my muscles all ached from the strain against the current.
Those slick rocks steadied me once I fully stepped on them, steadying myself against the powerful current.
Life has river crossings.
Rivers we would rather not cross.
Deep waters we have to ford through to make it to the other side.
Thankfully as we step into the raging water we have rocks to steady us.
Here are a few rocks that steady me and keep my feet holding fast. When I'm tired and just want to give up and let the river win. 
"Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly Lights, who does not change like shifting shadows." (James 1:17)
"Being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it onto completion until the day of Christ Jesus." (Philippians 1:6)
"And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all of the Lord's holy people to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge - that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God." (Ephesians 1:17-19)

Being sure of God's steady unshifting love is the only thing that can keep us upright when rivers threaten to drown our hope and carry us very far downstream.


  1. "Being sure of God's steady unshifting love is the only thing that can keep us upright when rivers threaten to drown our hope and carry us very far downstream." Yes! So true!
    Visiting from Five Minute Friday.
    Thank you,

  2. Okay, it looks like my first comment may have gotten eaten. In case it did, let me say again that I really enjoyed this post. I felt as though I was crossing the river with you. Then you moved seamlessly into the spiritual experience, encouraging us to keep moving forward, knowing that the Rock of Ages holds us steady. Great post! - Marie


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

31 Days of Free Writes #Wave

Four summers ago the first weekend in September marked one month.  One month lived out shaky and unsteady.  Just putting a few steps in front of the other and letting tears drip down faces or anger spill out at the sky.  "Why?"
I had watched my husband shake violently at the graveside of his twenty-six year old brother as he sat a few inches from the casket.
My usually stoic husband reached out for the casket as he passed by and I heard his voice crack as he called out his name.  One more time. I had never seen him stricken with grief.  That groan of emotion haunted me.   Those fifteen minutes spent under the funeral home's green awning the last minutes his family would ever be within arms length of this special brother.  A brother who had just slipped quietly out of this life beneath the green gold water of a river one steaming August day.  Bare chested and tan, jumping off the dock with friends.  Never to resurface again.
A lot of that week in August was just wakin…

Five Minute Fridays - "Last"

Last is such a final word, it’s a word that always makes us sit back and take note. We take note of the fact that something is about to draw to an end and we better enjoy the last drops, savor the last bites before its all gone. Like that last hot week of summer that we spend soaking up every last beam of Vitamin D. Or that last couple bites of a once a year Christmas dinner, slowly swallowed down. Or maybe the last night of a vacation where we try to take note of everything and know that we are returning to real world, real bills, real deadlines all seemingly too soon. Two weeks ago I experienced a last. For seven months I was given a gift. It was truly an unexpected gift. One I had never anticipated being given. For the past six years my sister Faith and I have lived in different cities for most of the time. We always mused over the idea that we should've lived together for at least one year of college. But from icy January 4th to steamy August 10th I had the gift…


Five Minute Fridays

Morning seems sacred to me.  Having nocturnal children kind of robs me of the mornings I like to enjoy in silence and quiet thought.
For years I would get up at least two hours before anyone so I could just be by myself and be quiet.
My parents are early morning people that like to eat full breakfasts and watch the sunrise on the porch. There's something exciting about watching the day open its' eye lids with the first glints of sun playing on the horizon edge.  Pale blues and periwinkles rouse us out of pitch black and many times morning rises in strength with extravagant colors.  It signals something new.  A new twenty four hours.  A new chance. Kind of like a new little slice of life.  We are mesmerized at first at the idea of new.  It's beautiful, holy, and hopeful.
Morning breaks the night.
I love that Cat Steven's hymn Morning has Broken.  I've always thought the words were so beautiful.
Especially the last phrase, "God&…