Power of the River

On the edge of the McKenzie River we each took two handfuls from the bag. A gentle breeze rising from the cold water caught the first handful while it danced in the gleaming morning sunlight on its downward fall. The second handful was released a bit closer to the water in the little alcove above the rapids. The final handfuls swirled around close to the shore as if they weren't sure it was alright to leave us. I caught my breath as I thought for just a moment, "It's all coming back at us," then the power of the river took over. Our gazes were transfixed as the water gently took the cloud of ashes farther away from us and then all at once they were gone. Completely and totally gone from our sight they were pulled into the river of life. They were sent onto their next task of regenerating the riverbed, the cedar trees rising from its banks, and the life that teemed below. We returned to our bench just on the edge of the bank. Cleansing our ash stained hands with cloths, gently using those same cloths to wash each other's feet, and then taking a small vile of oil to make the sign of the cross on one another's feet, hands, and forehead. Raising our song only loud enough for each other,  "Praise God from whom all blessings flow, Praise Him all creatures here below, Praise Him above ye heavenly hosts, Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Amen." Suddenly a bright yellow raft with summer vacationers rushed by on the rapids. Life speeding by! And, just as suddenly, a big family came to the shore we'd claimed as our private sanctuary. Mom, dad, kids of every age, grandpa, and the dog, all came close to see, to experience the river of life.

The river, the morning sun, life on the water, under the water, and at the bank's edge all affirmed our choice to let go. The length and breadth of our time on that hallowed bank far transcended the thirty minutes marked by the clock. With heart-healing grace it reached back over the past two years to remove the dust from our feet, the pain from our souls, and the ache in our hearts inflicted unjustly upon a geography of betrayal. The ashes that swirled away to bring new life were our burnt transcriptions of places, names, events, injustices, and wounds brought on by forces outside of us that we could no longer harbor within. Their burning and washing away revealed a new geography - one of grace-filled healing.

As the rushing McKenzie is new every second may our path, God's leading, and healing grace prove to be just as powerful, just as life-changing, just as beautiful here in our new home, our new future, our new grace.