Old Black Water, Keep On Rollin'

There's something about water. It intrigues me, soothes me, invigorates me. It's both familiar and calming, and mysterious. It can even be scary and dangerous, but that doesn't make my love for it grow cold. I love the sound of waves pounding a shore, water trickling down a stream, or cascading down a fall, or rain on a roof. The ocean is my favorite. I want to see it, smell it, and hear it. I've always especially been drawn to it at night. Don't worry, no nighttime ocean swimming. I'll not be a shark's bedtime snack. My favorite time on the beach is from around 4 PM until bedtime. When the last of the pink swirls downward on the horizon, and the moon is high in the sky, I find myself staring at its reflection on the dark water. I love to sit and walk on the beach at night, and then sit on the balcony until the waves lull me to near sleep. Even when on family vacation, I will do everything a mother does at night before turning in, and then steal out to the balcony or deck one last time to say good night to the ocean. I love the immense darkness of it, when all I can really see are the whitecaps in the moonlight. Even without moonlight or white caps, I would know it was there. Eventually my eyes adjust until I can see there is something just a little blacker than the night. Something great and fearsome, yet beautiful and majestic. I've also begun to notice over the last few years the blackness of the Tennessee River when driving over it at night. Sometimes lights from clifftop homes or the dam reflect on it, like a painting of lights on a black canvas. Something about it seems to beckon me. I imagine plunging in like a mermaid, feeling the exhilarating cold wash over my face. My diving probably looks more like a labrador retriever jumping off a pier, but hey, this is my fantasy. The reality is, I would never get in the river at night either. But in my imagination, I do. Beneath the blackness, there is another world. Ethereal, with shades of blue and purple, and lights coming from underneath. Maybe a lost civilization. Maybe fantastic creatures. But for sure, the spirit of God is there. He's everywhere, but the water makes me feel closer to Him. Genesis 1:2 says that the earth was formless and empty, and darkness covered the deep waters, and the Spirit of God hovered over the waters. The earth is no longer formless and empty, but if He's hovering there, I want to hover, too.