One morning the lake was especially peaceful. I paddled out to the middle and stopped, giving audience to the splendor. There was nowhere to go and everywhere to be. I wanted to drift in the rising steam, aim for the dark banks and dive into the middle all at once, yet I felt the fullness of it all in my place with the Creator. Resting my oar, I came to balance in the tranquility. Doing nothing at all I gained the entirety, the sun, the lake, the mist and the sky, doubled even, on the mirror of the water.
It was then, when I stopped and surrendered, that I noticed the wind, so gently moving me on the glassy water. And where would it take me? I didn’t care. When I rest in God’s arms, I have buoyant expectation of being delivered to a new place. Physically or spiritually, I will be delivered.
I remember sleeping snugly in the back seat of my father’s Chevelle when my family traveled home from my grandparents late at night. Vaguely aware of the hum of the road, my sister’s slumbering form next to me, my parents’ low voices, I slept like a satiated bear cub in my warm cave. I dwelled in perfect, innocent trust in my parents’ care. I never wanted the ride to end.
The stops became frequent, the accelerations slower. Finally the steep incline of the driveway, tugged me from sleep. It was time to go in, held securely in my father’s arms.
But when the kindness and the love of God our Savior toward man appeared, not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to His mercy He saved us, through the washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Spirit, whom He poured out on us abundantly through Jesus Christ our Savior, that having been justified by His grace we should become heirs according to the hope of eternal life. Titus 3:4-7
Meeting God at the Park 