SWB: Waiting for what's coming round the bend

This piece written by Mark Twain, was the focus of today's vignette for The Writer's Almanac for November 30th, 2009. I love the artful blend of this excerpt that follows because it captures the sleepy restfulness of the small town, and the jarring excitement of what new thing is soon coming down the river.

On this second day of Advent, it is a time of expectation and waiting. If we allow it, Advent can also be a time of rest in preparation for the joy and light of Christmas to arrive. So on this Monday of expectation and waiting, what moments of the last week made you feel most alive? What ones made you feel most drained of life? Do you sense something new and exciting stirring in your heart? Is there something that needs to be released to the churning river waters so that the next step in the journey can be freely made?

As you read this short piece by Mark Twain, let the mighty Mississippi roll around in your heart. We never know for sure what a wade in the water can stir up, but there is sure to be some bread that comes to the surface.

After all these years I can picture that old time to myself now, just as it was then: the
white town drowsing in the sunshine of a summer's morning; the streets empty, or pretty
nearly so; one or two clerks in front of the Water Street stores, with their splint-bottomed
chairs tilted back against the wall, chins on breasts, hats slouched over their faces, asleep —
with shingle-shavings enough around to show what broke them down; a sow and litter
of pigs loafing along the sidewalk, doing a good business in water-melon rinds and seeds;
two or three lonely little freight piles scattered about the "levee;" a pile of "skids" on the
slope of the stone-paved wharf, and the fragrant town drunkard asleep in the shadow of
them; two or three wood flats at the head of the wharf, but nobody to listen to the
peaceful lapping of the wavelets against them; the great Mississippi, the majestic, the
magnificent Mississippi, rolling its mile-wide tide along, shining in the sun; the dense
forest away on the other side; the "point" above town, and the "point" below,
bounding the river-glimpse and turning it into a sort of sea, and withal a very still and
brilliant and lonely one. Presently a film of dark smoke appears above one of those
remote "points;" instantly a negro drayman, famous for his quick eye and prodigious
voice, lifts up the cry, "S-t-e-a-m-boat a-comin'!" and the scene changes! The town
drunkard stirs, the clerks wake up, a furious clatter of drays follows, every house and
store pours out a human contribution, and all in a twinkling the dead town is alive and
moving.

Excerpt from Life on the Mississippi by Mark Twain, © 1883 by Samuel Clemens.

Wade in the water.
Wade in the water, children.
Wade in the water.
God's gonna trouble the water.

Well, who are these children all dressed in red?
God's a-gonna trouble the water
Must be the children that Moses led
God's a-gonna trouble the water.

Who's that young girl dressed in white
Wade in the Water
Must be the Children of Israelites
God's gonna trouble the Water.

Jordan's water is chilly and cold.
God's gonna trouble the water.
It chills the body, but not the soul.
God's gonna trouble the water.

If you get there before I do.
God's gonna trouble the water.
Tell all of my friends I'm coming too.
God's gonna trouble the water.