the banks of the river, canopy-covered, tree-lined are 1,000X better to walk than the grid-like city blocks I otherwise wander searching and never finding. I find what I seek alone by the river, listening to the birds speak and mosquitoes hum
to venture into the solitudes of contemplation, alone with my thoughts—
why not call it normal, this Way-to-Life I ponder
to move from the pavement to the path means crossing a bridge—mine runs across the North Saskatchewan River along Groat Road in Edmonton, Alberta, but there are many such bridges
on the other side of the bridge is what calls us to be holy—to come away and be alone; to be found, known, heard and transformed—strengthened for the road ahead
quiet solitude reinforces inner spiritual resources
in this place of seeking we find: it is well with my soul—and the fear of the wilderness beats a fast retreat, as our step quickens and our spirit begins to sing
we come to solitude badgeless and barefoot and yet leave walking taller, feeling invincible—we are changed from the inside out
in solitude we find we are not alone and cannot and will not be forsaken, as it is impossible for God to leave those in whom he dwells—not as guest, but as Lord—and here it is: the peace “that passes understanding”
peace—that inestimable, immaterial, indispensable good—flutters down into our hearts, takes hold of our lives and reassures us of a constant presence we can count on
praise God