Saturday, June 27, 2009


I am sitting by an open screen door in the mountains of North Carolina. Sunlight sends shafts of golden warmth that split the morning cool across the patio. The birds are curious about me. They fly near, but not too close, to watch me drink coffee from my cup and eat my toast. A towhee sings, "Drink your tea-ee-ee," over and over, like a faithful chant that consecrates the tall, cathedral oaks stretching to the sky.

After the bustle and frenetic activity of the last few weeks, the quiet seems almost like too much. But I know it's good.

What is it about green earth and blue sky that heals our souls?

I am in need of healing, and direction. Here, in this temporary sanctuary, I have time to breathe. Time to walk old paths up mountainsides and down valleys. Time to listen to the wind and watch summer storms roll over me. Time to search for a future.

We didn't choose this, lovely though it is. We have tried our hardest, over the last six months, to move immediately into a productive future. But the doors we knocked on never opened. Now we find ourselves in a temporary dwelling place. If someone asks me what God is doing in our lives, I have no answer. I simply don't know. But I know He's here -- here with us, among the little birds chanting their hymns in cathedral trees, against the green earth and the blue sky.

For now, that's enough.


  1. It sounds beautiful. So glad you are taking time to walk those old paths. What trees do you find?

  2. Ha! Funny you should ask! I don't even know what some of them are. Later in the day we walked a trail around Carl Sandburg's mountain home. Some of the more recognizable trees I noticed were oaks, pines,and dogwoods. But from my open screen door, I just see oaks and a few dogwoods in front of them. The milder climate here allows them to grow very tall.


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