Most people could not tolerate how slowly I walk through the woods on my prayer walks, it is a painful sloth speed. Every ten steps or so I stop, slowly look around me and soak in the exquisite beauty of my woods. Every square millimeter of my view is bursting with so much life.
I never tire of standing still in the woods just basking in the magic of it. Every tiny element is a gift… a red leaf, leftover from autumn, resting upon a soft green bed of moss… a dark grapevine twisting around an oak tree as it ascends slowly toward the sun… the ever present layer of bird songs composing a background choir… the gentle soft rush of wind blowing through swaying leaves… the translucent gradated patchwork of sunlight shining through forest illuminating rich brown earth… so many layers of God’s handiwork inviting my eyes and ears to explore.
There seems to be no limit to the vast diversity of life just within my periphery… no end to the unfathomable enormity of creation. It is a visual, audial symphony of color, light, sound, all blending together to create a complete masterpiece of creation. Very few components of this glorious work of art have been fashioned by human imagination. No need. God is the most fabulous artist of all. He doesn’t need our help.
I stop and sit on one of our chairs we’ve scattered throughout our woods, or on a mossy rock beside the trail. My spirit breathes in sweet revelation of the magnificence of the God who created all of this. And I worship.
Ah but then I remember that dinner needs cooking and the magic spell is broken. I am hot and sweaty. The air is buggy and my boots are muddy, the trail now only an inconvenient distance to cover. The surface hurried world of clocks and racetracks abruptly intrudes upon my meditation. I sigh and hurry home.
I will return soon.