I woke this morning to a very grey sky and deep purplish blue clouds promising a soaking rain that would soon eclipse the sun and settle into my neighborhood. A feeling much like that has settled down in my heart the last few weeks. The effects of seeing my father struggle with physical illness after his radiation treatments in September have left me with emotions feeling something like a gloomy weather forecast. "When will the sky grow brighter again and the promise of sunshine and outdoor pursuits be coming?" we sometimes ask when the weather grows rainy or stormclouds gather to infringe on our days. My heart keeps asking questions about the emotional forecast that sound the same. When will life as we knew it be possible again? When will our strong and dependable father be back to normal?
When my days are filled with busyness, I can evade the whispering of my heart's queries, but this morning without any scheduled plans, my emotions seemed to mirror the impending weather outside. As always I try to include some physical exercise in my day. Walking inside to a tape seemed the more reasonable choice, but I felt a real need to get outside and breathe fresh air in spite of the coming rain. I grabbed my rain coat and umbrella and drove to the Greenway. Usually teeming with people this time of day, I was happy to see there were very few people walking the Connector to downtown.
As I rounded the circle to enter the gentle climb upward to downtown on the Connector I made a determination that I would listen for anything God might like to speak to me while I made my way to the top. It's a pretty steep incline from the beginning to the end. Most days I am focused on my breathing, the time it takes me to get to the top or how warm or cold I am feeling. Today I knew it was needful that I divert my attention from temporal things like my heart rate or how many calories I might burn to the voice of my Creator.
Quieting the chatter in my mind is something I have been practicing as I walk and pray. Making a deliberate choice to silence my thoughts, I began to focus on the songs of the birds and the many and varied songs they sing. I noticed several small birds finding refuge under a bush and wondered if they were preparing for the coming rain and finding a shelter there. As I ascended the first half mile, I found my mind more focused on the foliage and taking in the sights around me. I must confess there was still a wrestling match going on for the thoughts that would inhabit my mind as I slowly made my way to the bridge that leads to the steepest part of the climb. However, just before I crossed the bridge, I spotted the most brilliant red holly berries intertwined with limbs filled with some blackened berries devoid of color. Making a choice to stop and enjoy the beauty of the bright green holly leaves and the Christmas red berries, I felt a twinge of something hopeful ignite inside of me.
It wasn't until I finished my ascent and started descending and retracing my steps that I heard God speak to me. "Even in this season when all things seem to be dying, there is life." At that very moment, I saw a dead log, perhaps there for many years in that same position, dry and disintegrating, wrapped in the most verdant green ivy. A few steps later I became aware of all the giant fallen timber lying across the creek that winds its way along the Greenway. By each of these fallen ones were many evergreens standing like sentinels standing guard over the trickling water gurgling on its way to bring life to many plants along the way. At the base of a tree, amid a pile fallen leaves, slipped a green shoot of new life in shark contrast to the dead leaves surrounding. As I came to my finishing point, I glanced up to see one small crimson oak, shining like the sun from side of the hill. All around it were barren trees stripped of all their glory but this one stood as a testimony of the brilliance of this season. And finally, as I walked to the parking lot, one last picture grabbed my attention. It was a small elm, recently planted, and bearing only one or two leaves.
My eyes focused on one small yellow leaf clinging to the limb from which it had emerged in the spring. I found myself wondering how some leaves fall so soon and others seem to cling to the life they find in the tree they've called their home. Then I saw what He had prepared for me. Our journey through this life is like a steep climb and many times we are too busy to see or hear the eternal message in our surroundings. As we descend, as we grow older or find our physical bodies in decline... we are as one of my favorite authors so beautifully put it... "taking that slow determined walk back to our Creator." It is our human nature to cling to this life and the physical body in which we have found our home for many years. Perhaps some of us cling more stubbornly to this life than others. No matter our determination, there will come that appointed time for all of us to let go of life as we have known it for something more precious and glorious.
Its hours later and the rain has not yet begun. Our journey with our father still holds days of questioning and letting go. My heart still feels I am losing my father one day at a time, much like the trees whose leaves are shed gradually until all are swept away by the wind and rains of fall. I can't imagine a season without the familiarity of all that has been family and home. Letting go of the familiar is so difficult. Some days feel like the struggle of ascending the hills of the Greenway this morning. Personally, I am still wrestling with my own fears. However, today God wants me to know He stubbornly clings to my sister and I as we walk through this season of changes as a family.
As I walked back to my car, I saw these words on the mile marker sign... "YOU ARE HERE." I heard His quiet whisper...."I AM HERE too. See ME in the crimson oak. See ME like the verdant ivy, the brilliant red berries, the clinging leaf. I am in the changing of the seasons. I will be with you in yours.
