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In Old Park near Kremmling, Colorado, it was beside a pretty mountain stream called Pass Creek. In Redding, California, it was on a big boulder by the Sacramento River. In Parachute, Colorado, it was on a quiet, sparkly lake on the Grand Mesa a short drive away. In Denver, it was on a big rock by Harvey Park Lake. Now, in Brownwood, Texas, I have found my spot in a pretty park along the Pecan Bayou.
In my spots, the blur of life takes focus and I sit there as long as it takes to feel a quieting. I pray. I sing. I take photos. I listen. He speaks. I write.
Psalm 34:8 - Taste and see that the Lord is good. Blessed is the one who takes refuge in Him.
