He leads me beside quiet waters, He restores my soul. Psalm 23:2b-3a

 
Still waters center my soul like nothing else. I try to find my way there several times a year. Today was one of those days. I spent the afternoon paddling up the south arm of Foster Reservoir – my favorite get-away. It was a rare day with very little wind and very few people. The lake was placid and smooth as glass. I got into my kayak and paddled into the stillness with no one in sight.
The further I paddled up the arm, the quieter it got. Trees along the shore were reflected flawlessly in the smooth green mirror of the surface. My bright red kayak creased the green surface, the water gently lapping against the bow.
The silence was broken by chittering birds and the cry of an osprey. Random splashes with rings of ripples were tell-tale signs of hungry fish. A lazy salamander undulated to the surface for a quick gulp of air then flashed his orange belly and disappeared back into the depths. An iridescent blue dragonfly perched on a floating twig while I slipped by. I was amused by three startled ducklings racing across the water on webbed feet.
The air was fragrant with the sweetness of the woods after the brief morning rain. I drew it deep into my lungs and exhaled in peace. The stillness enveloped me and seeped into my soul. Worship flowed out of me and filled the quiet with His praise.
I wanted to stop time and stay suspended there, but I wasn’t meant to live in a place with no ripples. God leads me beside still waters so I can carry it into the grit of life. Without stillness there is no restoration of soul. But it’s too easy to neglect and remain caught in the chaos of life until spent and drained.
I can’t always go to the quiet waters, but God always brings it to me if I take time to step aside and meet Him in the stillness.
At the end of the day, in the parking lot of the boat ramp, an old guy picking blackberries discretely watched me load my kayak on top of my car. I was still tying it down as he drove away. As he passed me, he yelled, “You go girl!” I laughed and finished cinching it down and drove home. His exhortation probably had something to do with the unusual sight of a 62 year old white haired woman loading a kayak by herself.
Back to work tomorrow. But in the morning, before the sun rises, I’ll meet my God in the stillness and let His praise fill the quiet. Then He will whisper, “You go girl.”
 

Photos from Foster Reservoir