College Creek Meditations I.1

I lay on my back, staring up at the gray sky. Low clouds wisped by in darker forms. The lighter, higher layer almost betrayed the sun’s location, but even then everything looked simply gray. I sat up and looked across the water of College Creek, and then down at my feet, which barely touched the waters. I took notice of the ripples caused by the wind—coming from some unknown place and going where I know not. And I thought,
“God knows each of these ripples. Each one has come and gone in His knowledge and by His design. And here I am, dipping my feet into the river, making new ripples, which were once unknown to me but known beforehand by God. Because I dip my feet into the river, the ripple is, and will be forever until this world is unmade. Now try to tell me my choices—where I put my feet—do not matter in this world. I’ll reply, with wet and wrinkly toes, ‘I have made my choice, and it has made all the difference.’ ”