Fearless Faith

The creek north of the old place was still, silent and unmoving. Ice ledges intruded from the banks, enabled by low temperatures and periodic early winter snows. Steeply carved banks of overgrown brush were also silent, no movement visible in the tangle of bare branches and undergrowth. It was a picture of seasonal rest and waiting in anticipation of a distant spring. Glimpses of the creek from gravel roads offered up similar conclusions. The creek bottom was deep in slumber.

Like so many things, it took getting off the traveled path and venturing to water’s edge in order to appreciate how ali...