Hallelujah! You mean a place that I can relate personal experiences with God and not be told I'm mistaken? Vunderbar!
A place to say God spoke to me and not be called deranged? Superb!
A place to say God stays the same? Excellent.
I'm not certain I feel comfortable without being assaulted with a pillowcase filled with scriptures!
But I'll try. Bless you all that yearn for more if Jesus and his doings.
Jesus asked "what things" ?.
This sprang to mind. Being a lifetime outdoorsman, hunter, fisherman, wood cutter, trekker I've seen God in nature many many times. Deer hunting, he sent deer that came from nowhere and stood broadside to me as if to say "here I am, God sent me to you for you and your family". This happens time and again.
Not ALL is harvesting. I've spent hundreds of hours observing nature in remote places. Beautiful things he made. Watching fawns chase each other like playful children as their mothers grazed is a fond memory. They would run so fast they would get very near the ground in a tan blur as they chased one another.
Watching a mother bobcat teaching her two small clubs to hunt while the alarmed Bluejays told everyone in the woods that danger was near.
At twilight seeing a large lone wolf sitting on the crest of a hill as the sun set behind him.
Sitting on our porch as the sun sets and small flights of wood ducks sped above the stream below me looking for a quiet pool to spend the night.
This remembrance leads me to a writing the Lord gave me about flowing waters. Shall I bore you? Of course! After all, he gave it.
This is the story of a River's beginnings as mere raindrops high in the mountains and growing to a mighty flow.
FLOWING
By Frank Lee Jennings
all rights reserved ©2016
Revised Christmas day 2017 4am
Away up high the showers fall
from clouds a rushing by
to feed the little trickles
a falling from the sky
and drenching there the mountain lands
that father sea bound streams
and raise them up to seek their way
and glory in their dreams
beads forming, drops merging
tiny streamlets all sprint down
scores and hundreds fingers joining
in mountain mazes winding round
off gray ledges waters leaping
grown to rushing, skyward heaping
waves whirl bounding, ever growing
cascades riot, rainstorms blowing
a swirl fest, boiling, frothy show
charging jagged flint below
headlong into pools and hollows
motley flotsam riding high
roaring steeply down through gorges
sheer faced mossy granite hands
rays of mist birth peacock rainbows
rush away to delta lands
wider now though often parting
joined again far from the starting
merged again through many turnings
blended waters onward churning
past the farms past the houses
past the little river towns
past the fields of row crops growing
fruit grows up while roots reach down
tribes of waters dance as one
gleaming in the noon day sun
shimmering under midnight moon
stealthy in a cloudy gloom
wheeling, tilting, cupping wings
scant above tan waves
speeding flights of waterfowl
on murky river twilight bays
darkly, boldly moving ever
dawn then twilight greet the river
greet fierce squalls and monsoon bands
flotsam, jetsam joining hands
river dwellers mull the flow
net gray schools that swim below
harvest wood that floats above
glean the harvest coming home
delta river brown and grown
wise with age, youth all sown
toiling toward the sea forever
labors ever, ever flowing
flowing flowing flowing down