a cove, the quiet resounded. In a
cove, the wind calmed. In a cove,
the waves subsided. In a cove, a
heart reached out to God.
ago, many years past, sat a boy in tears awash.
Fist in hand, with words unspoken, he screamed a pain of spirit.
Bleeding from thistles and thorns, his weary legs could run no further.
Far had they carried him. Far
longer than he had thought. Out of
the danger had he run. Over the
forested dune and beyond the farthest trail, passed the shaded rocks and down
the steepest banks. His heart the
trophy, his spirit the runner, his body the track, and together he ran an event
quickly had the fire come upon him. The
smell of smoke a first warning, while underneath the summer sun he played in the
meadow as he had yesterday and many days before.
Then with a burst of lightening and a thundering crash, the flames
reached out to him from the rolled edge of the meadow, below him, at the foot of
the hill. “Daddy!”
“Mommy!”, he cried out. But
it was a silent cry beyond the on-coming roar.
but now his cry was silent to even his own ears.
“Help!”, a cry unheard beyond his lips.
The wind blew warm on his small innocent face as he peered toward the way
home. Standing, frozen, unable to
feel his feet in the softness of the soil which seconds ago was pouring between
toes playing so care-free, he looked to the trail, now blocked by a giant flame
with arms of death that lashed out at him.
Ashes burned at his eyes, and his tears were dried as they formed.
The blaze of wind now rushing at him with unbearable heat.
the flames screamed. “Run!”, into his ears came the order. “Run!” Was
this a call for him, or were the on-rushing flames being commanded to overrun
him as soldiers by a General? Was a
Commander giving directions like he played in his meadow, charging toward an
imaginary foe and yelling “charge” to an imaginary army?
“Run!”, he heard the command. “Run!”,
he heard it again. Then as a mighty
gust of wind struck him, he was turned, and like the lashing by the tail from a
fleeing horse, he was whipped, and the boy ran from the fire.
Over the top of the hill the wind pushed him, lifting him from the meadow
and out of his playground. Down the
other side he ran, cascading over the top and down as if caught in a great
waterfall. Into the forest never entered before he ran without
hesitation, without looking behind. The
boy ran and ran and ran. Carried
without strength, guided without understanding, shown the way with eyes closed,
and somehow held while being alone, he ran and ran.
Then to water’s edge he came. Upon
impassable water he stopped. His
way was blocked. He could go no
further. He had come into a cove.
Once again, standing, frozen, unable to move, the boy collapsed, falling
upon himself. Gripped within his
own grasp, fetal, unborn, crying for the comfort of his mother’s womb, a
whimpering voice was heard, “Mommy!” Then
again, repeated, a sound so familiar, “Mommy.”
Was the wind crying out? Then
again he heard the sound, but this was from his own mouth, he was hearing
himself speak comfort which he so desired, “Mommy”.
Then it was quiet. Leaves
rustled atop the huge trees. Water
rippled over his beaten feet. A
bird bathed close by, splashing and flapping its wings at the water.
No other sounds were heard. There
was no charging fire, there was no thunderous attack.
There was no torch blowing upon his back, there was only a cove,
peaceful, undisturbed, safe and secure.
the years, the pictures of long ago have faded from the mind, but the cove
remains true and unchanged. Year
after year, I have returned to the place I first encountered God.
It was God who sent me running from the fire that day.
It was God that directed the flames to turn from me.
It was God that guided me as I ran, unaware of my path.
It was God that created my shelter, my place of protection, the waters in
a cove. It was God that brought
Mommy and Daddy to find me, and it was God that saved us from those flames.
Every year that I am able to return to this place, I thank God for
bringing me here. I came here when
I asked Jesus into my heart, and accepted Him as my personal Savior.
I brought my wife here and shared my story with her soon after we were
married. I brought my children
here, and told them how God saved me, and now with my Grandson in my lap, I can
once again tell how God saved my life in a cove.
Thank you Lord for this cove. Thank you for bringing me to this place where I found You. Thank you Lord for Your refuge, for being who You are, and loving me. Thank you Lord for hearing my prayer in a cove.