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  • Writer's pictureeaspenner

Our Heavenly Father Never Stops Weaving

For years, I have crossed this creek.

Each morning. Each evening. And so very many moments in between.

Over roaring waters, I have crossed. Over barren, dry, weed-filled grounds, I have stepped. Over frigid, ice-solid ground below, I have lost myself. Over steady, beautifully-streaming clear, glassy ripples, I have stood in awe.

Day-in-and-day-out. I've noticed and observed.

For years, I have watched this creek change, evolve and wrap me up in one of life's most unexpected lessons. For years, I have passed it; stopped to observe it; tossed sticks into it; counted turtles around it; sat and watched fish swim through it; imagined ice-skating upon it; envisioned floating down many thoughts and reflections.

For years, I have seen it change with each season.

...recede to what appears to be complete dryness; nothing but weeds, dirt and solid ground. A seemingly barren, steamy, weed-filled wasteland under the relentless heat of the summer sun...

...overflow to just feet from our home; unable to cross over; staurating the ground hundreds of feet away; flooding every grain of soil and blade of grass under the persistent spring rains...

...frozen solid; encasing everything within and around, in a moment-time-time...under the spell of winter's frigid glory...

...sprinkled with scarlet and marigold leaves, under the calm, steady stream of fall's gloriously-golden days...

For years, I have watched. I have noticed. I have observed.

When suddenly, a few years ago, out of nowhere, this creek and I made a connection I never could have imagined making, amidst a humbling prayer walk with God.

"Stop for a moment, My daughter," He whispered as I prepared to cross over once again. "For years, you have watched. You have noticed. You have observed. But, you have yet to make the connection. Take today, for example, My child. So stagnant, it seems. Water, standing idle. Going nowhere. No flow; just resting in place. Like how so many days of life tend to feel. Stationary. Immobile. But, look to the south. Do you see them? The ripples? The ever-so-small waterfall over the simple cascade of rocks? That's Me, precious daughter. Those tiny, unnoticeable ripples? Those are Me. In life. There. Always and forever there. Even when you can't see Me. When you can't feel Me. Ever present; pushing you forward."

I really had nothing to say in return.

It was just me in awe of His subtle masterpiece.

Thinking of season-by-season. Thinking of every change. Every quiet hint.

Thinking of Him, as the Father. Thinking of Him, as the Son. Thinking of Him, as the Holy Spirit.

The hidden waters running under ground; continuously, amidst each moment of our lives.

Sometimes, it feels as though He has completely left you high-and-dry, while life leaves you feeling parched, thirst and desires un-quenched. At times, so unbelievably barren, you are unsure how you will continue on. Yet, there He is; quietly hiding underground. Steadily flowing like a secret well, deep within our hearts and souls.

Sometimes, it feels as though life is overflowing; either abundantly with His goodness that you are too scared to enjoy the shower of blessings; or overwhelmingly, with unforeseen circumstances, causing you to feel as though you are gasping for air with every beat of your heart. Yet, there He is. A life preserver. Helping to keep you afloat amidst the unexpected waves and torrents, as He cautiously pulls back the floodwaters.

But, most of the time, there is this stagnancy about life. A continuous flow...not too much; not too little. Just simply there, moving along.

Yet, there He is again... humbly... ...subtly... ...secretly...

...rippling and intertwining His way through...

...every heartbeat... ...every breath... ...every tear... ...every exhalation... ...every broken-heart... ...every glorious, hallelujah laced moment...

...of our lives.

Continuously weaving together those endless moments...whether frozen...barren...stagnant...or create a hand-sewn, one-of-a-kind, beautiful tapestry; nothing short of a miraculously magnificent illustration of God's hands and heart, oh-so-intentionally, working wonders in our lives.

"I want you woven into a tapestry of love, in touch with everything there is to know of God." Colossians 2:2

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