Today I hoed furrows into the garden bed so I could plant peas. I turned on the hose and let water run at a trickle down the row so there would be a nice wet place for my peas to germinate. I stood with the hoe, ready to clear out any blockages that kept that stream of water from making it to the end of the row.
I watched the water work it's way down, shearing the walls of the furrow as it went, pooling in places before breaking through obstacles and rushing onward. I watched, god-like, over this micro-erosion event and imagined the power this trickle of water and I wielded.
I wondered if this is what God felt like as the Grand Canyon was being created, as He watched the walls shape and form, and the canyon deepen. Did he marvel at the snaking course the water took through the path of least resistance? Did he get a thrill when the power of the water caused large boulders to break away, changing the face of the landscape in a moment? Did he ever feel the urge to reach down with his hoe and reshape things for the best possible outcome, or did he just let everything take its course?
Watching this process was a bit of a rush.
But instead of lasting millions of years, it only lasted a few minutes. Then, I planted the seeds, covered them with soil and went inside.
