I saw a picture earlier today of a pair of adrenaline junkies paddling amidst this brown, roiling water. Naturally as the sports-un-enthusiast I am, I looked at the picture, not with eyes that envied the sportsmen, but with eyes that saw only the disposition of the water.
I thought about what it took to make "white" water, how a million disturbances under the surface caused it to twist and churn and splash about completely opposite to its usual easiest-course approach. That's why the water was so brown, it was churning up all the filth it otherwise would have flowed right over, and because of the disturbances in its course it had lost its usual ability to reflect that which was above it.
Sometimes I find that I am like that water. A few rocks in my way and I'm churning in the muck, unable to properly reflect, tossed about, and nearly out of control. Rocks are inevitable, I'm afraid, in the course of life, and we all have our own rough water times.
The beautiful thing is, the river doesn't let the rocks dam it, it doesn't let them dry it up, it just keeps on running. It keeps on running the course carved for it, until it is through the rapids and once again able to reflect and flow and nourish all around it.
If you are in the rapids, just hang on. The peaceful times will return, and soon you will look up and thank God for getting you through it. You will look up and your countenenace will refect that higher one, and you will be at peace, clean, pure, and ever moving towards your destination.