Water World

I love Your rain, dear Lord;
It fills the void betwixt cloud and earth with bright molten silver globes which crash and dash and splash
flushing away our pain and sorrow, our trash and mess and leave us cleaner than before.

I love Your waves, dear Jesus;
They crash and roar and hiss and try to lure me back into their depth, promising a watery playground.
I, earthbound air breather that I am, resist the temptation, but with a sense of melancholy loss at what might be.

I love Your little nighttime lake, dear Lord;
its riffled surface, fluffed by a passing afternoon breeze; Its surface broken by a leaping hungry trout;
a quicksilver mirror in which a bright-faced Moon admires her own beauty.

Sometimes I worry I shall miss these, Lord, in that then and there when You make all things new. But, here and now, looking into that vast eternal world, I know that You are my Rain, my wave, my pond and am content--
and know I shall be then as well.

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