Water.... and people in their places

I went from water-inundated northern Colorado to “always-rainy” Seattle.  It’s amazing the difference when water falls from the sky at a slow, steady rate.  In Colorado, I bypassed my flooded destination of Fort Collins to insure my eventual arrival in Denver an hours south and, more importantly, my flight out of Denver.   In Seattle, I enjoyed sunshine; it’s always lovely when I go there. If it weren’t for all the obvious green, including moss on rocks and roofs, I’d think someone was making up all the it-always-rains-in-Seattle stories.

So I enjoyed water in its proper place and my son, also in his proper place.  He expertly directed me through city streets, introduced me to favorite restaurants and knew just when to turn the street corner to arrive at a favorite thrift shop.  He’s in his place, his element and creating a life there.  Perhaps not the life I’d like to see him creating- he’s supposed to be in college, making long term goals and perhaps, racking up loan debt.  Instead he works nights, sleep days and lives well on less money than I’d thought possible.  And he’s happy. 

He has a community that he trusts and enjoys.  Like sunlight bouncing on the water in Union Bay, he's reflecting the security he’s experiencing in this place. 

The end of the floating bridge in the background.

We walked nature trails on bridges over the water, feeling the concrete segments moved subtlety under our feet.  Walking on water, enjoying peace in the quiet place under the overpass and the rush hour madness above us.

Another day we took a ferry to the Olympic Peninsula to explore small towns and their lavender fields, long past the purple prime of July.  We saw salmon running in the Dungeness River- not quite the thick squirm of pinks and reds I remember from my Alaskan childhood but still amazed that those big fish thrash upstream so far from the sea.

Arriving in Kinsgon harbor.  

We could hang out here a long time! 

Still on the peninsula, we headed west to the rainforest. The Marymere waterfall was an easy hike and the way rich in green abundance.  


The hush quieted our souls and we spoke of the creation and the Creator.

The sheer size of the trees was overwhelming and we wondered, do the trees know we are there, in their place?  Studies show other plants respond to gardeners.  What if the trees are somehow aware, even responsive?




                                                                     These sacred natural places can invoke thoughtful hikes.

At the end of the trail,  water dropped a hundred feet, falling from above us into its stream bed

far

Marymere Falls

below.

Again, water in its place.  Not controlled by man but certainly within its natural boundaries.  Comforting, calming.  Not the destruction of chaos, instead  the beauty of creation.

God, my God, how great you are!

    beautifully, gloriously robed,
Dressed up in sunshine,
    and all heaven stretched out for your tent.
You built your palace on the ocean deeps,
    made a chariot out of clouds and took off on wind-wings.
You commandeered winds as messengers,
    appointed fire and flame as ambassadors.
You set earth on a firm foundation
    so that nothing can shake it, ever.
You blanketed earth with ocean,
    covered the mountains with deep waters;
Then you roared and the water ran away—
    your thunder crash put it to flight.

Mountains pushed up, valleys spread out
    in the places you assigned them.
You set boundaries between earth and sea;
never again will earth be flooded.

You started the springs and rivers,
sent them flowing among the hills.         Psalm 104

My time in Seattle is over.  I’m off to visit another son, a beloved daughter-in-law and, of course, the most adorable granddaughter in Texas.   For all four of my children, the rivulets of their childhoods are broadening into the wider streams of adulthood.  I’m just grateful to be able to float along with each of them from time to time - at their pace, in their places.  Like water flowing in its ordered place.