Morning glory in Jinja, Uganda, source of the Nile. Skilled fisherman ply their trade along the currents. Cormorants, young and old, are fishing also. Four otters come close to greet, as monkeys fly from limb to limb in the canopy above. Storks walk the green carpeted hill and stand atop Acacia trees. Kingfishers skim the surface and pilot the peninsula.
The sun rises over the hills, casting red glow, emanating into golden glory. The fulsomeness of creation invites awe, wonder, and gratitude. Jesus’ healing presence and power is fully present; I am here to rest and receive.
Peace like a river, attendeth my way. It is well. It is well. It is well with my soul.
Reflection #2
The African fish eagle has planted herself firmly on top of the bountiful tree in the center of the river, no one her equal or rival. She is clothed in splendor, her demeanor regal. Her white cap and breast reflect the sun-kissed rays of evening glory. Her coat contrast speaks stature. She is Queen of the River Nile.
Three kites circle through with their evening meal. They find various perches to enjoy their catch. The pied kingfisher drops down from his shallow perch to the water only to bounce back up again, almost apologizing for his unsuccessful ventures. Did he catch anything? Maybe after his third try. The open-billed stork joins the party, coming in for landing like a 747, natural, but always a bit awkward, like he had to teach himself to fly.
Evening song, a creation hymn to YHWH’s glory.
Reflection #3
It occurred to me in a moment’s notice. I went out the door to listen to the Muslim call to prayer. As I sat in the dark on the steps to listen, I looked back on the Nile River flowing below, and then gently gazed at my guesthouse, a small circular hut with a dim light inside. I had been enjoying reading about an early 20th century missionary/anthropologist to Northern Rhodesia (modern day Zambia) whom I admire, indulging his cultural insights and his love and respect for African peoples. I realized in that moment how different my life is from that of family/friends back the U.S. Yet, I am grateful. Ours is a good life.
Reflection #2
The African fish eagle has planted herself firmly on top of the bountiful tree in the center of the river, no one her equal or rival. She is clothed in splendor, her demeanor regal. Her white cap and breast reflect the sun-kissed rays of evening glory. Her coat contrast speaks stature. She is Queen of the River Nile.
Three kites circle through with their evening meal. They find various perches to enjoy their catch. The pied kingfisher drops down from his shallow perch to the water only to bounce back up again, almost apologizing for his unsuccessful ventures. Did he catch anything? Maybe after his third try. The open-billed stork joins the party, coming in for landing like a 747, natural, but always a bit awkward, like he had to teach himself to fly.
Evening song, a creation hymn to YHWH’s glory.
Reflection #3
It occurred to me in a moment’s notice. I went out the door to listen to the Muslim call to prayer. As I sat in the dark on the steps to listen, I looked back on the Nile River flowing below, and then gently gazed at my guesthouse, a small circular hut with a dim light inside. I had been enjoying reading about an early 20th century missionary/anthropologist to Northern Rhodesia (modern day Zambia) whom I admire, indulging his cultural insights and his love and respect for African peoples. I realized in that moment how different my life is from that of family/friends back the U.S. Yet, I am grateful. Ours is a good life.
2 comments:
We're so glad you both found time to travel and observe and appreciate all of God's creation.
Blessings.
I enjoy the sheer imagery that you bring to this account. I find it a winsome indulgence.
As for the Muslim call to prayer, that remains but a distant memory for me—it has been 40 years, now since that was a part of my life.
Sometime I shall have to fill you in about my Christmas, bus ride at the end of 1980—we did stop right at sunset just to let all the passengers out for prayer. And in an odd way, your account of the Muslim call to prayer brings that back to mind. But sometime I shall simply have to fill you in about the ride, itself!
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