Yosemite Tears

 

 

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While standing on a rock in river’s flow;

I cried to God, “Please let me see and know.”

 The pain that tore my heart was hard to bear;

So looking up to God, I said, “Not fair!”

Then nestled by the fire with beauty ’round;

There, talking to a friend, my phone had found.

 I shared the paradox of far and near:

“In spite of space, we hear each other clear.”

For I’d cried out to God Who’d made this all:

The rocks and trees and rivers and the falls;

 He’d given me a voice to call in need;

But when I cried it seemed He did not heed.

Then waking to the morning dawn serene:

A dampened circle on the ground was seen.

 No other campsite had this moistened ground;

I searched throughout the camp — none could be found!

So asking friends and rangers, “Did rain fall?”

They looked at me as if I’d lost it all!

 So asking God for purpose for this sight;

I sensed Him say, “I visited last night.

You told Me when you cried I did not speak;

My answers come — My Word I always keep.

 To let you know, I heard your cries — their sound;

I poured your bottled tears upon the ground.

 So look and see the waterfall has stopped!

So, tears of loss, confusion, fears will drop.

 Tomorrow waters course o’re falls again:

A picture of how tears of joy begin!”

 

While camping alone on my twenty-eighth anniversary in Yosemite, God granted me a powerful witness to His listening ear.

“Thou tellest my wanderings: put Thou my tears into Thy bottle: are they not in Thy book?” —Psalms 56:8

October 1999, edited 2019

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