Picnic table in the river

Picnic table in the river

There’s a picnic table stranded in the river, unmoving in the current in the slow spot they call the rock tub.

How does God want us to test and see if an impression is from Him? God doesn’t close the lines. Who am I to say these rock dams aren’t the very word of God?

There are two different picnic tables in the river. I’m conflating them. Isn’t that something? I’m conflating the one he already rescued with the one I passed one day, unmoving in the rock tub.

He says God tells him where to put the rocks. He erects rock walls in the water, ever so slightly rerouting the river in their wake. They’re something to avoid. They’re something to puzzle over. He says God tells him where to put the rocks.

He says he prayed to God for a picnic table to come, and one came. He says he prayed for help moving the table up onto the grassy island, and four angelic youths appeared. Nevermind that four corporeal youths have a version of this story. He prayed for help, and help came.

God doesn’t close the lines. Maybe God can talk in picnic tables. Maybe God can talk in river rocks, in walls of river rocks. Who am I? I mean, shit, there’s been two picnic tables in this river.

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