The deepness of the river made it opaque, and also gave it the appearance of being solid. The cloudiness of the water concealed monsters and treasures and made miles glide by. The river was a mystery. Even so, my attention wasn’t on the liquid beneath me, I was focused on giant green clumps of trees and white clouds that looked like my cousin Bob. The blue sky between the familial formations also captivated me. Idaho skies are the bluest during summer months.

The river was loud. Water gurgled over fallen trees and turned rocks in their places. It rushed west at a rapid pace and carried me with it. I stayed afloat with outstretched arms and legs. I held my breath more than I needed to, but doing so provided a stronger security in my ability to stay on top of the cobalt mass as it splashed and ran along its course.

I floated down the river on my back for hours while my eyes devoured the scenery. Gradually though, the river widened and grew shallow. Fish and rocks appeared as the sun penetrated the once dark mass of water. The sky maintained its blueness and the clouds provided many more shapes for pondering and I continued to float until I felt the first sharp scrape across my back. Then another up my calf, ending behind my knee. Before I knew it, I was slowed to a stop as the river had become too shallow to float any longer. It was time to get out and move on.

God’s grace is like a river. It’s mysterious and will carry us for miles. Sometimes, we don’t even pay attention to it, but the minute it stops, we can feel it. The sharp stabs and stings in situations lacking His grace are there to move us to a place where we’ll get swept up in something new, a fresh grace to take us where He wants us to go.

Written for this week’s blog carnival featuring Grace. Check out other wonderful writer’s essays and posts!