Saturday of the Second Week of Advent
As the deer longs for the water-brooks,
so longs my soul for you, O God.
Psalm 42:1
The late afternoon sun makes the deer nearly invisible, and I am almost upon them before I see them. A young buck and I look at each other. I am surprised that he is not more startled, that he stands still, examining me. As if he is trying to decide whether it is worth his time to move away. Whose land is this anyway?
Whose indeed?
As the deer longs for the water-brooks,
so longs my soul for you, O God.
Psalm 42:1
Whose indeed?
I tend to think of the paths I walk as my own. My journey. My exploration. My way. Perhaps all I can realistically claim as my own is my yearning. My longing for God leads me to seek out the holy. The afternoon sunlight, the deer, this moment, each journey, every path: all belong to God who spoke creation into being.
