“What makes a river so restful to people is that it doesn’t have any doubt-it is sure to get where it is going and it doesn’t want to go anywhere else.” Hal Boyle

Wasn’t yesterday an absolutely stupendous day? The fall colors are beginning to emerge. The sun was shining so brightly, sending shafts of light through the yellows and reds that are beginning to paint the trees in our landscape. Even at the height of the day, there was just a hint of chill in the air. Children in our neighborhood were running around, playing, yelping, as if trying to squeeze the last bit of freedom out of the days they had known in summer. It was one of those days when a teeshirt was not enough. A jacket was too much. Some might even be so bold as to call it a ‘heavenly day’.

We took the opportunity to wind our way down the river to Hastings taking in the half harvested fields of corn and summer’s exit. Brilliant green shown on one farm while others were dotted with the nubs of corn mowed to the edge of the ground. Flocks of birds could be seen overhead doing their little lacey dances in air. I love this autumn flight show they do. I always try to turn on the radio so the music can accompany their flights of fancy. No matter the tune on the dial, the music seems to fit.  They, like the children, seemed to be making a last ditch effort at soaking up the sunshine, the warmth, the gifts of frivolous days gone by.

At the edge of the Mississippi River, we sat watching the powerful waters make their turns in some of the widest areas of the river’s path. The waters seemed even more treacherous than usual, fueled by the heavy rains we experienced last week. We sat and watched as enormous, rootless, trees floated alongside smaller branches and limbs torn loose by strong winds and the rains that are playing even greater havoc further down river.  Floating along in the current were also debris of all sorts: plastic soda bottles, all kinds of aluminum cans, papers, plastic, an upended paper plate(how did it stay afloat?). A styrofoam cup half filled with muddy water stood upright as if someone might reach out, pick it up and take a drink. And the most unusual, a black and white Adidas sport sandal riding the water as if making a miraculous, one-legged walk on the waves. The sight was both astounding and quite sad. This mighty river filled with such filth and pollution. My husband pointed out that, if all went well for some of the debris, it would be in New Orleans in a couple of days. A tragic but interesting thought.

Later we walked another path further north along the river. A plaque along the way pointed out that people had walked, lived, and flourished along this river for 8,000 years. An amazing idea. As I looked out toward the burgeoning waters flowing around islands of trees and docks that seemed to be free floating, I wondered about those people. What manner of things had my genetic ancestors seen float by 8,000 years ago? 5,000 years ago? 1,000 years ago? 100 years ago? Surely the floods, which are predictable and a part of how Creation works, have always caused debris to make its way from our end of the river to the Gulf that will receive it. How has that changed over the years? What does the ‘stuff’ we send down the river have to say about who we are now?

I don’t have any answers to these questions. But I did leave that experience feeling a greater connection to those ancient people who made their lives, their homes by the shores of the river. I felt a connection and an obligation to walk gently on this land. Perhaps some day, say 1,000 years from now, someone will stand at the river’s edge and wonder about me and my life companions. Perhaps they will wonder if we loved the river, if we felt its connection to our living and to our brothers and sisters who we share its flow. I pray they will think on us kindly.