By the Waterfalls, a Reflection

The waters fall, the streams continue to flow. On and on, they never seem to run dry. Where does the water come from? Did someone up the hill forget to turn the tap off? The waterfall answers, “We come from the clouds. The rain keeps us going. Every time the dew from heaven falls on the mountainside, we are strengthened, refreshed and renewed.” Like the waterfalls, we depend on God to keep us going. “Rain down on us, O LORD, and rejuvenate us” we pray. Sometimes we forget.

By the sandy riverbanks, the trees reach for the sun. The animals come to live on their branches, and under their cool shade. Why do they grow so tall and strong? “The river gives us life”, they say. As the stream follows its course, it brings life wherever it goes. Our lives flow by a multitude of other lives. Like the stream, do we become that channel to which life can flow from God to others?

On and on the river runs, never stopping to rest. “Hey, wait a minute! I can’t keep up with you!” Like the river, our lives flow on and on. Most of the time, we can’t catch up. One year passes by, and then another. We then wonder what happened. “Where did it all go?” we ask. “All gone in a flash” the echoes whisper in our ears. We need to slow down. We need to pause for a moment to reflect, to enjoy and to really live. Are we aware of the beauty that surrounds us each day? Are we aware of the little movements of God in and around us?

The stream flows next to me. The water is muddy, but the current is strong. Why? Why does the stream look the way it does? Why is it the way it is? The sand and the mud follow it down the mountainside. The little streams that flow into it along the way determine its volume. What I see next to me is merely a snapshot of a long, winding journey down the mountain. Past experiences flow like little streams into our lives to make us who we are today. We carry scars along with us like silt carried by the currents. Chance? Inevitable accidents? Fate? Or God’s careful shaping of our lives? Is this what it’s been leading to? Or is there more? I cannot see. Where does the river go next? What happens after the next bend? They are obscured by the trees. Where are we going? What’s next? How long more? We can’t see. They are obscured by the misty unknown we call the future. All we know, is that somehow, somewhere, the river flows into the sea. Infinity. Eternity. Hope. What will carry us through the unseen stretch ahead? What will keep us going? A promise… and a hope…