Give, Said the Little Stream

This post just won Scribbit's May Writeaway Contest, here.



Meet the proud owner of a babbling brook. Uh-huh. Me.
We have a flowing stream running through our yard. But only about once every three years. The rest of the time it's a trench that is just wide enough and deep enough to be a curse and a hazard.

But right now? It is pure blessing. This year's spring run-off is abundant enough to overflow into our own yard. I step outside and hear clear water gurgling over small boulders. I hear a whoosh and a roar as it pours off the mountain and through our yard, out toward the lake. I stand there and just watch, listen, and wonder at the constant renewal. I try to envision its source, so far away, pouring out this blessing. The sound of rushing water is like a peace offering, a shower for the soul. I love it!

Suddenly we want to be outside, where the water laughs and invites us to join in a game of Pooh-Sticks. The dog leaps gracefully back and forth over the rushing water like some kind of supercanine hero. The plum blossoms are more fragrant, as the running water seems to carry their scent. Our sometimes unwieldy yard has shed a burden of snow and been transformed into Eden.

As has my heart. Because today I was blessed with not one stream, but two. The second was a stream of visitors. I woke this morning feeling a tiny bit abandoned, bereft, and spent. I prayed and wept, all at the same time. And the heavens answered the heaviness in my heart with a steady stream of angels. From morning to night, favorite people, the dearest of friends, stopped at my door, some unexpectedly, coaxing me out of my house and my shell, restoring my energy, reminding me that I am loved.

• Two blog friends, back for a second visit before they wend their way home, one all the way to another country, spreading goodness in their wake.
• An uncle, to share a bit of wisdom and a golden referral.
• A mother, reaching out to share a common journey over an impromptu picnic.
• Visiting teachers, gracious, benevolent and wise.
• My children, returning from school with smiles and hugs.
• A dear friend, at times more like a sister, calling long distance, always willing to listen, and caring enough to ask just the right questions.
• Two travelers, kindred spirits from a former life, connect here at the same time, and meet us for dinner. The best kind of synchronicity.
• A baby...with eyes like crystal and an expression of total purity, spreading nothing but love and joy, warms my arms.
  

It's not just the mountain reservoirs that are overflowing but the heavens themselves, pouring out blessings until I doubt there is any more room to receive. I knelt down and wept again. To thank Him for sending both of these beautiful streams.

And his voice was as the sound of the rushing of great waters. (D&C 110: 3)
O that thou mightest be like unto this river, continually running into the fountain of all righteousness! (1 Ne. 2: 9)