I want you to know. I just can't tell you.

((from a journal entry 11-04-07))

Today I found my favorite spot in Orlando. It is intrinsically wonderful, filled with all the good things a one could want in a thing that is wonderful and good. Diverse plant life, various animals, the sounds of running water, bridges, hide-a-way spots, trails, park benches, wide-open-spaces, a small amphitheater for a midday tableau, etc. The type of place I want to be at every day.

What struck me the most is how largely unknown this personal paradise is. Despite being several blocks from major thoroughfares, there were surprisingly few people there. It is a secret. An anomaly. How is this delicate place of beauty so untraversed? I stumbled across an older couple on a trail that I was obviously making too much noise on. They quieted me quickly and motioned that I join them in looking at something. They pointed to an otter frolicking in the stream. I had startled him to motion and we watched as he swam up into a small pipe most likely serving as his front door. "Honey, I told you I should have brought the camera. The first time I leave the camera in the car is the first time we see an otter..." the lady went on. "Do you come here often?" I asked. The man jumped in, "Ever since I was about five."

I slowly began to collect that this was the type of spot only for locals, where outsiders were welcome, but by invitation only. This was no Cypress Gardens or Weeki Wachee--there are no advertisements touting "Orlando's greatest park" or "Florida's best wildlife". In fact I went home and tried to find it on Google Maps. As I suspected, it wasn't there. You can see it from the satellite view if you know what you're looking for, but there are no labels.

As I left, I was saddened by the fact that I did not have anyone beyond William Sydney Porter (O. Henry) and his "Magi" Jim and Della to share the experience with, but joyful with this new knowledge to share with everyone I knew. As I tried to think about telling someone about my discovery, I realized that there was no way I could do justice to what I had just witnessed. There was no way to communicate my experience. I could not simply tell someone about the spot that immediately became my favorite. I had to show them. I couldn't wait for the opportunity to bring someone with me to experience for themselves the joy of this place.

In a certain sense, my faith is similar to that day. I can try to articulate the reasons why I believe. I can try to tell you of it's grandeur or expound upon the subtle nuances that form the tipping point for utmost trust in a Man, yet So Much More Than A Man. There is no way that could be enough, though. I want you to experience this for yourself. I want to experience this with you. I want to live this out intimately with someone. I can point out the way, but something gets lost if that's all that is accomplished. There is ownership in discovery. There is joy in community.