Sitting on a log beside a quiet stream as it weaves it way through the forest, to me is peace. I used to do that often before I married Jim since my house was very close to Bull Run.
I spent many hours in those woods, near the stream, because it was my favorite place of solitude. That scenario is not as available now, so the Lord has been teaching me that peace is not dependent on location.
Streams are interesting. They display a multitude of facets. After a storm they can race, foam and spill over their banks. During a drought, they can dry up or stagnate, with mosquitoes hovering over the scummy pools. Throughout a normal spring season, the water flows serenely as it curves around the bends. Streams, like rivers, only flow in one direction. There is no going back.
So are the streams in my life.
When I am willing to follow the course of the stream He has set before me, I have peace. Unfortunately, sometimes I try to go upstream, against the current, and wear myself out. Yet even when I am following the Lord’s path to the stream, I often have to squish through the mud first, or swat the mosquitoes. Incredibly, while I wait and listen for His voice, He sits with me beside the stream. There is no greater joy.