Psalm 46[a]
For the director of music. Of the Sons of Korah. According
to alamoth.[b] A song.
1 God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present
help in trouble.
2 Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains
fall into the heart of the sea,
3 though its waters roar and foam
and the mountains
quake with their surging.[c]
4 There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy place
where the Most High dwells.
5 God is within her, she will not fall;
God will help her
at break of day.
6 Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
he lifts his
voice, the earth melts.
7 The Lord Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob
is our fortress.
8 Come and see what the Lord has done,
the desolations he
has brought on the earth.
9 He makes wars cease
to the ends of the
earth.
He breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
he burns the
shields[d] with fire.
10 He says, “Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted
among the nations,
I will be exalted
in the earth.”
11 The Lord Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob
is our fortress.
And here is my story:
The Deepening
The earth shakes. Rumbles. Thunders. Roars. Reverberates in
the core of my being.
Darkness falls. It begins.
So little time.
Cracks in the cliff. My feet slip on jumping gravel. Over
the edge, waters writhe as though boiling.
Roots. I need roots.
I pull the seeds out of my satchel. I grab one, bouncing
atop the others, and plant it in the ground. I raise my hand over it and will
it to grow. To thrive. Soon the tree towers above me, and unseen below.
I pick out the next one. Plant it. Place my hand over it. It
grows tall and strong.
A third doesn’t take. Heartbreak.
Another.
Yet another.
A crack shatters my focus. The edge of the cliff falls into
the sea.
I need more. More time.
So many seeds left.
Faster.
Faster now.
Plant them. Grow them. Next.
Tears sting my eyes as I look at the satchel full of seeds.
And the lightening of the sky.
I upend the satchel, scattering the seeds, pressing them
into the ground. Grow!
The cliff shears off beside me.
No time!
The sun peeks over the horizon. Hundreds of saplings glow at
its touch. My grove.
It is finished.
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