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