Blessed Peace

Freeman House is off the same road and less than two miles from what I consider to be the most beautiful state park in Texas. It has camping grounds and picnic spots and swimming holes and fishing coves and boat slips and... most importantly, if you ask me... peace. Blessed peace. I love to be there as the sun rises and sets. It's one of my favorite places in the world.

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.