I wrote this entry in my diary one day while spending time at a cottage: “After tossing and turning and worrying for hours, I have finally decided to decamp to the porch of the cottage and let the lake work its magic. The water is a mirror, a woodpecker is busy getting breakfast and the loons are laughing across the lake.
Is there anything more beautiful than the music of the Canadian wilderness? What a symphony of blessed bird song I am enjoying! All my ragged, frayed nerves are being woven back into harmony as I sit enraptured by the sweet sounds of the lake awakening. There is a background of general chirping, undertones of musical lilting, and the occasional high flutey trills punctuated by the loons’ haunting call. The hills and trees are reflected in the silvery water that I can see through the lacy boughs of the cedars along the shore. The cottage seems illumined by a golden glow and the air is pure nectar. Fluttering wings and chattering squirrels play a counter rhythm as every child of the forest joins the choir. The lake is turning gold and silver before my eyes.
The flight of a heron reflected on the polished surface of the water lifts my heart and I must give thanks to my Creator that I am more than mere observer, that I too have a place in God’s orchestra, for however brief a time. How can I be anything but happy? And so God restores my spirit by leading me beside the still waters of the lake, restoring my soul.”