WINTER ON THE BANKS OF THE WABASH.....When I was a child, I never thought much about the Wabash River just across the field from our country home in Ceylon, just north of Geneva. It was as much a part of my home as my family, our fruit trees, garden and the friends around. It was in my fiber. Gradually, precious memories were made, such as my dad and I taking a mile walk along the Wabash one spring Sunday to take pictures, my dad taking me fishing at the river and my mother spinning stories from her childhood, especially how a neighbor lady and her accidentally got carried away in a rowboat one day and ended up 12 miles from home. But the older I get, I realize what a treasure that heritage was, being raised on the Indiana state river, listening to songs such as, On the Banks of the Wabash and all of the historical and geographical significance of the river. Later in life, my mother added spirituality to the Wabash, telling me how they would hold revivals in the winter in the little church close to them and then baptize the people by chopping a hole in the ice and baptizing people right then and there in the cold waters. And one of the most special happenings, when my Aunt Frances told me how she was baptized in the Wabash as a girl, and when she came up out of the water, she literally saw an angel in a white robe standing on the bank smiling at her. So it was quiet reflections this afternoon as I spent some meditative time on the banks of the Wabash, part, of my home, like the Psalmist said, He leads me beside the still waters, He restores my soul.
Posted on: Fri, 09 Jan 2015 05:21:40 +0000
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