#2025-0423
Where the stream sings again and grasses rise anew — Meilun Creek at twilight.
At twilight, when the sky softens and the earth exhales a cooler breath, Jean and I walk hand in hand with our grandchildren along Meilun Creek, not far from St. Luke's Church in Hualien. The stream hums over its stones, the air shimmers with gold, and every step becomes a quiet hymn of joy.
Yet not long ago, the creek told a different story.
In early November, Typhoon Kong-rei swept through, swelling the waters until they burst their banks. The trails we once loved were swallowed by flood and mud. For days, the land wore the heavy scars of wheels, footprints, and broken driftwood — a raw, aching reminder of nature’s fierce power.
But healing follows even the fiercest storms.
Now, the creek runs clear once more, and tender grasses brave their way back to the banks. A new trail curves patiently along the water’s edge — a quiet testament to hope taking root where ruin once lay.
As we walk at dusk, the world around us feels wrapped in mercy. We are small before nature’s grandeur, yet never forgotten. By faith, we trust in the love that binds all things together. By grace, we take each step — renewing ourselves in love, in service, and in gratitude to the Creator who makes all things new. Amen.
May these simple moments by Meilun Creek speak softly to your heart, as they do to ours.
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相關文章 (See also):
1) 美崙溪:燈光倒影 (2023)
2) 暮色 (Shades of Twilight) (2024)
3) Typhoon’s Mark on Meilun Creek (2024)