A river runs through our lives. From the time of our beginning to end, the flow of water is omnipresent. Our personal timelines are etched with watery guideposts. Some of my earliest memories are of Rockaway Beach in New York. The rolling waves refreshing on a hot city summer day. When I was young, my father would take us to the row boats in Central Park. It was an adventure of a lifetime to a 5 year old.

As a boy scout at summer camp, I remember swimming in the cold water of a mountain lake in up-state New York. That summer, our troop built a bridge of lashed timber across a stream. As we waded in the murky water, leeches would attach to our legs later to be removed with extinguished match heads that evening. One hot summer day while in high school I persuaded a few friends to go swimming in a pond ignoring the snapping turtle signs until it was too late.

When my children were small we had a “farm” on the East Branch of the Delaware River on the Pennsylvania -New York border. It was remote and we had no neighbors. I would stand down river with my lower half in the freezing water while my upper body was burned by the summer sun. The kids would body surf the current for me to catch them.  The old farm house was perched high above the river and we would sit on the porch just gazing transfixed as the river flowed past.

My mother-in-law had lived in Stuart for over thirty years before she died. For most of that time, she had a condo that overlooked the Saint Lucie. When we would come to visit, I would sit on her balcony and we would talk, all the while mesmerized by the river’s flow. As she aged and my wife needed to spend more time here, we bought the apartment next door to her. Our balcony also overlooked the river. When she passed, it was her wish that her ashes be placed in the river.

A dozen years ago we traded in our apartment and bought a house on the river and over time built a new house on the same spot. Then when the new house was nearing completion, we decided to move full time to Stuart and the river. Every day whether from our back porch or kitchen or bedroom we can see the Saint Lucie.

There are no dolphins now and there are fewer birds, probably because the fish aren’t there. The river still flows but more silent than before. It is still a beautiful and majestic sight. One can gaze at the magnificence of the flowing river for hours. It is calming and soothing in a cacophonous world. But the river is dying just as the estuary that it flows into is. We know why and how and what must be done to prevent this death, but seem powerless to do so.

A river runs through our lives. From beginning to end, it meanders at times and surges forth at others. The beauty and the power of the water have an ability to transform our very nature. The river needs little from man except to be left alone. As we have done with so much of nature, we are incapable of keeping God’s work untouched.