Sometimes I get caught up in awe of my God who knows me and loves me.

Waterfront Property

Waterfront sites are prime real estate at the Wichita Falls RV Park. I’m pretty new here and I come and go. So I take what I can get.

That’s why when I came back from my latest trip, and drove to my randomly assigned new spot, I was surprised.

It is right next to the lazy, muddy brown, Wichita River that runs through our fair city.

I use the term “runs” more to describe its path than its motion. You have to look pretty far upstream to detect movement. Or is it downstream? I need to get my lingo right if I’m going to be river folk.

Here’s a confession for you. I’m not entirely sure this is even the Wichita River. Maybe it’s something else completely? I’m pretty sure it’s a river, not just a stream. And it’s in Wichita Falls. Help me out here, Wichitans.

Anyway, whatever this one is called, I’m excited to know that for the next month or so, when people ask me where I live, I’ll be able to say quite literally: “I live in a van down by the river.”

It may not be the purtiest body of water you’ll ever see. And I may not be able to get an angle to capture both the river AND Amazing Grace (the RV) in the same shot. That’s okay.

Provision for sad days

I love the river, and my spot beside it.

It reminds me that my God—who knows me—knows that when I’m sad, I desperately need to see sunshine reflected on the water. And he prepared this gift for me 10 days ago, knowing I’d need it today.

I’m sad today. I just got the news that a hero of mine went to heaven. I’m glad for her, but I’m so sad for all of us who love her. Every loss, every hurting or sick friend, the funerals and goodbyes—it all seems a little heavier today. Heavy. And sad.

Sitting down by the riverside doesn’t take away the sadness. But somehow when I feel the breeze, hear the sound of the geese, and see a tiny ripple reflecting the sun—I know. God is good. He’s here. He sees me.

You may call this coincidental. You may think it’s luck or wishful thinking. I call it providence. And I’m grateful for it.

A new friend

A young family strolled by my writing perch on the wall by the river. They confirmed this is the Wichita River. I’ll take their word for it. So much better than Google Earth.

The little girl on the scooter and I chatted. She’s four and has a dog. We agreed that I’m not four and I don’t have a dog. I don’t have a scooter either, but my granddaughter does. That seemed to make me okay.

“Guess what?” she said, “My grandmother died.”

For a split second, I thought maybe another God thing was happening. But her mom spoke up, “We don’t know why she keeps saying that. Her grandmother is very much alive.”

Kids. You never know what they’re thinking.

But here’s what I think. Isn’t it great that God put the river, the sky, and the scooter path here for all of us? The old lady who just lost a hero, and the little girl who didn’t.

He sees us all. Providence.

Traveling in Grace,

Christi