The Lake: A Place to Meet with God

 

Back in 2010, right around this very time of year, I traveled into that desert of the soul after losing the relationship I thought was going to be the forever kind. Those of you who have been reading here many years probably well remember the ache and sadness of my heart in those days.

            The Lord sent many kindnesses my way in that time, some of which I was able to see more clearly in the moment than others. One such kindness was a new-to-me family that adopted me right in to be one of their own. They owned a lake cottage and gave me a standing invitation to be there as often as I wanted. And so it was that nearly every Friday night, I haphazardly threw clothes in a bag and drove to the lake to hide from my own reality for a weekend.

            Of course, reality followed me there, and my heart still burned with the loss of it all, but the sweetest part of those days was sensing the nearness of the Lord on the waters of that lake. I did chapters of Bible studies from the deck of their home, looking out toward the channel ahead. When they promised a day on the water, they packed snacks and I packed my journal. I sat under the shade of the boat canopy and poured my heart out on paper while they splashed in the lake.

            During sunset cruises, I’d wrap up in a blanket and let the wind whip my hair as I watched the sun go down – trusting God’s promises that He would be there with me when it came up again the next morning.

            The lake became a special place for me to meet with God, and though the season of the soul mercifully ended, the season of feeling near to the Lord on the water never did.

            And so here we are, thirteen years later, on a different lake with the same gentle draw of the Lord.

            What a joy it is to pause for a break in the evenings and sit quietly, watching the water ripple. The forced rest of body and soul leads me to heart-prayers more often than not.

            Yesterday, Lexi and I sat out there for about a half hour, just enjoying a Sabbath rest. Our flowers fluttered in the breeze, a hummingbird zoomed in and out, the ferns rustled behind me, and every now and then, a fish flopped into the air and back into the water below. I could hear laughter from down the way, and my baby garden waved from its perch on the side.

            It was quiet and sweet, and I was so profoundly grateful. Thankful that God has always met me in a sweet way on the water and thankful that the very sight of it pulls my heart in to rest.