Standing on the Rock

I decided Asherel needed a break from her intense studying for her two big SAT 2 tests on Saturday. We called her buddy Josh and headed to the deserted Latta Lake with our kayaks. The chaos and hubbub of Memorial Day picnickers and boaters had vanished. The choppy roiling waves that had been slashing across each other in the wake of jet skis and water skiers and motor boats were now still and glassy, a mirror reflecting the sky and surrounding forests. The silence, except for the constant chatter of Josh and Asherel, was soothing to my soul. I need beauty, and nature, and quiet. I am easily overwhelmed and overburdened with sensations.

As we kayaked to the "leaping rock", we saw a great blue heron perched on it. The rock juts out of the middle of the lake. The beautiful bird looked like he was waiting for his picture to be take for a calendar. The still water around him, reflected the tall solemn rock and the hazy greens of the distant hills. We glided up to him till the prow of my boat touched the rock, and then he stretched his magnificent wings and with wide sweeping, whooshing strokes, lifted into the air and circled off to a distant shore.

When I got back home, I called another WW2 pilot to interview. His brother answered the phone and urged me to call another time. It was 4:00, and his brother the old fighter pilot, was anxious to get down to dinner. He lived in an assisted living center. So I nestled down instead with a book about WWII, so I could have a better context in which to construct my own book. It was terribly depressing. Later that night, as I drifted off to sleep, I thought about the horror of war. Given the choice between the vision of the heron standing on the rock or the vision of War, I finally closed my eyes and remembered the heron.

Psalm 89:26
He will call out to me, 'You are my Father,
my God, the Rock my Savior.'


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