The River

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Monday June 2, 2014 – Philippi (the river where Lydia and the other women met Paul while praying on the Sabbath)

I waded into the river today.  It was a still moment, when eyes were turned elsewhere, and my heart sparkled… like a knowing glance or a shared secret. Gurgling whispers filled my ears drowning out anything else, a roaring breath of solitary silence.  The current was easy at the edge, gentle, sweet and inviting… and increasingly compelling with each step inward. A cool and constant force of newness slid toward me in a calm which then collided with and swept wild over and around my knees with ever increasing fierceness. In the center I could not have stood without my feet firmly planted among the larger stones and constant diligence. But the River did not heave me away.  Rather, it washed over my feet and legs like a strong gale, a cleansing tide that never recedes but is new and present and unfailing every moment of each of my days. Thank you, Papi, for calling me into the river… For putting me places that are too big for me… and then for giving me your legs to stand on.

 

river philippi

 

 

The Epistolarian.

 

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