Making Glad.
A Sunset Dinner Date with the Creator.
She did more than meander. She moved.
Slightly murky, a shiny rainbow trout could have easily slipped near the surface unnoticed. The last of the Rocky Mountain snow melt and more than one hail laced downpour promised that her curves were fat and full.
I had sealed our summer salads in crunchy foil before getting in the car. Mark grabbed two camp chairs. It was only a five minute drive to Creation’s most requested and hard to reserve table.
A one-foot-at-a time path paralleled the stream. It was occasionally soggy underfoot. The meadow grasses waved as we walked by. Wild irises and other purple flowers whose names alluded me were part of the friendly crowd near my ankles. Mark spotted a small clearing. Unfolding our seats, a speckled granite rock became our footstool.
Vacationers had gone back to their campsites. We had it all to ourselves.
We sat there. In silence for a while as our eyes scanned the hillside for a lazy boulder-laying mountain lion or a lone bear lumbering down for his pre dinner drink. The river bubbled and splashed by. Southern gusts were strong enough to cause the tip top of fist sized waves to spray into the air. Their droplets were fine but fleeting.
The South Platte was a fine river. Her waters were snowflake pure. But she was not the ancient Kidron. She didn’t flow and break apart into small tributaries providing water for the holy city of Jerusalem. That was the prophetic scene painted by the writer of Psalm 46. It spoke of a watering still to come. It wasn’t yet.
Israel was at war. She was dry. We lived a brief but impactful nine weeks along side her lip chapped pain. And we were now tired.
Last evening, two weeks after our return back to the Wild West, there was a refreshing. God had given us one of His rivers to enjoy. And her steams, did indeed ‘make glad.’
There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
    the holy place where the Most High dwells.
Psalm 46:4