Walks and Delvings
Unrelated to my other musings, which are still in the works, yesterday I was walking back (to where I am staying) from class and I knew that it was going to take about two hours. I sat down and looked out over the fields when I felt like it, and enjoyed eating an apple that fell from a tree as I passed. I went officially picking some this afternoon, and got a bag of my favourite, for munching, as well as a few for a crisp.
As I walked, I decided to just let my thoughts wander and expand as they desired, partially to see how long it might take me to get my head to stop talking, partially because there were a lot of thoughts floating around. I spent time dictating what I'd hoped would be something I could turn into a blog entry later, but unfortunately found out later that my file didn't save. I'm just going to consider the time I spent alone with God as what was supposed to stay private and possibly serve as for compost for future posts.
But somewhere between the appreciation of various vistas to which my camera could do no justice, my penchant for fantasizing, and some bullrushes with curled leaves that made them look like they were challenging each other to fisticuffs, I eventually did find stillness. Like a snail slowly poking out its eye stalks, I finally started to feel like I could expand, and breathe, and let the world happen around me. My thoughts went to this week's Sunday school lesson, where we talked about how God promises to bring us back home, even after we are sometimes sent away. And while we are away, we are called to be our best, and do God's work where we are planted, keeping our heads and hopes high that one day everything will be put to right. I wondered aloud what my "home" may someday look like, if it cannot look as I wish, or if I just need to be patient; what might possibly be better, even if it is different? This is where the ache is. But in this beautiful place as I walked, I felt lifted and clean, and able to breathe in this expansive meantime.
"Be patient, do your best, the future has many moving parts," I felt.
... At least I have so much to do in the meantime. And I am grateful, and active, yet still wondering.
"Keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour."
