A Winter's Walk

         Walking early this morning on the greenway with Mr. Bingley--a tiny slice of heavenly beauty and peace.

 And, of course, there were so many fabulous sticks--he was in heaven as well.

        And to think I had dreaded getting outside!  I'd been so preoccupied with worrying about the ice and cold and mess that I'd be facing that I almost missed the gifts!  The wondrous and myriad gifts of winter, all straight from our Heavenly Father, the giver of all good gifts.  The ice-tipped trees sparkling in the slowly rising sun.  The quiet.  Oh what a blissful sound of peace.  The bracing cold that reinvigorates and revives.  The white blanket of snow padding the pathway and covering the bare, brown earth.  The stillness and simple stark beauty of a early winter's morning.  

         Worship of our Lord can happen anywhere, anytime, when our hearts are attuned to Him.  Oh might we be ready to give Him glory at all times, in all places!  And He is always working, always moving, always redeeming, always giving gifts.
         Maybe the greatest blessing of a few days of enforced isolation with a winter storm is this gift of restful quietness, of stillness, and of seeing what's around us with fresh eyes.
         I loved these words I read from a man who writes of taking a weeklong winter retreat in solitude.  Like all of us, he experiences worries and strivings that seem to assault him as he awakens early on his first morning in the little cabin.  Don't we all know the feeling?  Busy, hurried, anxious, fussing and fretting.
       But Parker Palmer writes: "Now, a few hours later, I’m feeling that peace again. It came from a breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast, all ready simultaneously despite the fact that I’m a certified kitchen klutz. It came as well from looking out on the snowfields, brilliant under the rising sun — but beautifully etched with the shadows of trees and stubble poking up through the snow...After breakfast, I read the January 12 entry in "A Year With Thomas Merton," a collection of daily meditations:
        'It seems to me that I have greater peace… when I am not 'trying to be contemplative,' or trying to be anything special, but simply orienting my life fully and completely towards what seems to be required of a man like me at a time like this.'
        Simple and true, but so easily lost in Type-A spiritual striving! What was required of me this morning was simply to make breakfast despite my well-documented ineptitude. The deal is to do whatever is needful and within reach, no matter how ordinary it is or whether I’m likely to do it well.
        This afternoon, what I needed was a hike, though the wind chill was six below. I’m no Ernest Shackleton, but I learned long ago that winter will drive you crazy until you get out into it — and I mean “winter” both literally and metaphorically. 'In the middle of winter,' said Camus, 'I at last discovered that there was in me an invincible summer.'
        I didn’t discover summer on my hike. But the sun blazed bright on the frozen prairie, warming my face. And high in the cobalt blue sky, a hawk made lazy circles as I’ve seem them do in July. For January, that’s close enough to summer for me!"
        Isn't that so true?--"winter will drive you crazy until you get out into it."  That's what I was reminded afresh this morning.  Sometimes you simply need to take that first step.  Get out there.  Begin.  Step out in faith--whether that means literally taking that first step outside on a winter's day...or taking that step of faith into the great unknown in obedience to God's calling.
        Perhaps too many musings!  But oh how I've loved these past few days of quietness, savoring God's beauty even in winter.  The busy world awaits, and it's almost time to jump back in, but thank You, Lord, for Your myriad and varied gifts and the unhurried time to enjoy them.
        So many gifts from a simple winter's walk.
        Thank You, Father.  Love You, Abba.  To God be the glory.