if rivers spoke.

The words won't come. And all I would say, all that pushes and pulls, bends and twists, begging to come out, simply won't. Thoughts dance, my heart keeping time to the rhythm...a slow steady lilt, harmonizing to the rushing river outside my door.

What would he say if he could talk, this mighty rushing body of water? What would I ask, if I knew his voice would echo back, deep and clear and true. Would the stories bubble from his tongue, stories of days past, of ages and times, men and women, and the dance of life witnessed as his waters rushed on? Or perhaps his voice would speak of the One who created the crevice and filled it with water that rushes through and into every moment of every beating heart's life. There it is, the song of a God, the voice of the One who thought of the very place to lay the waters, held together by banks of emerald green, sprinkled with the bright, shining colors of laughing little flowers. His song, the river's song, written by He who would give so much more abundantly than I could ever imagine to His child. 

I would sit and talk with this river if I could. And we would speak of much, if rivers spoke. Of things deep and rushing and true. He would tell me how, like his waters, the love of the One who made Him rushes all about His children, at times like a flood, lifting like a stone the children He so loves. And there I have found myself, carried deep, pushed down and beaten, worn and smoothed through this great rushing love, until the edges of a soul jagged are worn smooth, reflecting the gaze of a Savior who loves more deeply, more true, more clear and sweet than any rushing river on the earth. This river and I, we would talk of how pain, it teaches and molds and smoothes out like no other teacher can, of how, when held in the Creator's hands, all that once could never be, now is. For like five small stones chosen by one small shepherd boy, when we are smoothed out in His hands, we can be slung forth with perfect aim to bring down giants and bring glory to His name. 

And we would laugh too, for rivers hold such joy in the depths of their waters. Here I see the deep and abiding joy of a God who laughs bigger and carries joy unimaginable, joy overflowing in every ounce of His being. This river would tell me of a joy that flows through a soul given to its God, until even in pain there is still the joy of being a child of the Living God. For rivers know that beyond the wearing and smoothing and pain and hurt, when you have reached the end and flow into the sea, it is here, when we are pressed beyond ourselves, swallowed up in all He is, that we are held most close to the heart of He who loves beyond all knowing. It is here I would stay. In the deep. In the midst of a love I cannot explain, to gaze forever into the eyes of the One who holds my heart in His hands. 

Yes, this is what we would speak of, if rivers spoke.