God is my rock.
Unexpected clouds gathered above and brought the wind with them. “Let’s go take a walk in this autumn weather,” I invited God. We hiked up the ridgeline and beyond the ravine, then followed along a mountain stream. The world was quiet, save for the babbling of the water and the crunch of boots on dry leaves.
“See where that stream seems to stop over there by those big boulders?” God asked. “It’s been forced underground for a while. Eventually, it will burst back to the surface and be clean and fresh from having traveled through the rocks.
“That’s pretty amazing,” I said.
“When life forces you into dark and narrow places, let me be your rock. Let me wash you clean and give you the energy to burst back out into the light,” God said.
“I’ll remember that in times of trouble.”
The clouds gathered more strength, the sky darkening. “Let’s turn back home,” God suggested and reached out His hand to help me scramble down the hillside.
“Will you be my rock in the good times, too?” I asked.
“I’ll be your rock forever and always,” God said and squeezed my hand. I wondered if it would start to rain before we made it back to the cottage—but I knew that even if it did, I’d be alright with my rock there beside me.