Nothing I Have to Do Today

Travel Journal, 2021-05-23: Wallowa Lake State Park, Joseph, OR.

Situation: Sitting on the grass at Wallowa Lake, my back resting on a log, and me hearing the ripples of the Wallowa River to my right. No one else around. Here I can snooze, look, think, and write.

Nature rolls on at the lake year after year, like the waters of the river that flow into it, and I’m in that nature and part of it—this log behind me, the grass around me, the trees beside me. Birds fly, fish swim, bugs buzz, and I’m lucky to be able to witness, write and pray. Nothing else I must do on this pleasant spring day, except give thanks to God for his creation and his wonders: my heart pumping blood through my arteries, my eyes seeing the blue lake ahead and the blue sky above, my ears hearing the creek rippling to the right, and my mind thinking about the variety of life all around, such as the trees, fish, robins, Canada geese and their goslings. It’s a fine job, this job of giving glory to God. I could do it every day for the rest of my life.