I just love the slower pace of Saturday mornings. Nothing demanding my attention so I can walk at leisure with the need to rush home. This morning I walked passed the pond again. And as always it drew me in. Some how on Saturdays I see the things I failed to see all week long.
I see the wonder of His creation.
I see the hand of the architect in the billowy cotton-white colored clouds.
I see His paintbrush streaked across the sky in the brightest of blues.
I see glimpses of His light as I squint my eyes toward the awakening sun.
I feel His breath as the wind gently breezes by.
I see His hands stirring the waters. Oh yes the ripples speak of His activity.
I see His tender loving care of the beautiful flowers that bloom.
I see evidence of what it means to be planted my the living waters—the foliage so lush and green.
When I see Him my ears can’t help but be attuned to His voice. I hear the whisper again to just make a splash. Abandon the need to know, to cast away the desire to see where the ripples go. Pay no attention to whoever is making greater waves, splashing loudly. Simply do as the creatures in the lake– splash with abandon.