“Wilderness is a state of mind, an adventure of the soul. Inside every human being there are tracts of wilderness beyond imagining. But to experience wilderness to the full, to have any kind of grasp on what it really means, you do occasionally have to go outside.
Whatever else wilderness is, it’s not something you encounter vicariously or watch through the window. It’s for you personally.
For your actual life."
from The Wilderness Within You A Lenten journey with Jesus, deep in conversation by Penelope Wilcock
I read this in my (unusual) Lenten devotional book this morning, when it was much too cold to venture forth in my shivering opinion. I gazed at the clouds floating by, took a few deep breaths, and said, okay, I’ll make it a priority when I get home this afternoon.
It’s late in the day, but I’m keeping my promise. Bundling myself into my heaviest sweatshirt, hood up, I venture forth toward my wooded wilderness. I'll take you along this time, but you know, finding your own wilderness is best.
Whatever else wilderness is, it’s not something you encounter vicariously or watch through the window. It’s for you personally.
For your actual life."
from The Wilderness Within You A Lenten journey with Jesus, deep in conversation by Penelope Wilcock
I read this in my (unusual) Lenten devotional book this morning, when it was much too cold to venture forth in my shivering opinion. I gazed at the clouds floating by, took a few deep breaths, and said, okay, I’ll make it a priority when I get home this afternoon.
It’s late in the day, but I’m keeping my promise. Bundling myself into my heaviest sweatshirt, hood up, I venture forth toward my wooded wilderness. I'll take you along this time, but you know, finding your own wilderness is best.
Spring is trying hard to slip through the door into my valley, but winter is like that cousin who dropped by for a minute and three hours later, he’s still rummaging in the fridge. How can he be enticed to leave? The wind sighs impatiently through the pine trees, loud, then louder. I’m immediately glad I grabbed my gloves for this adventure. It’s much colder than it looks, but still, I think I can catch a glimpse of spring from here.
Stretching along the valley, the mountains look fuzzy, like a baby’s head when the hair is almost visible. Soft. Almost wooly.
Almost leaves.
Almost tree blossoms.
Almost.
Stretching along the valley, the mountains look fuzzy, like a baby’s head when the hair is almost visible. Soft. Almost wooly.
Almost leaves.
Almost tree blossoms.
Almost.
Behind me a blue bird whistles its signature slurred notes, pauses on a branch with his bluest of blue feathers, then disappears. A bluebird is always a good sign.
However, the Hickory Lane screech owl is not feeling sociable today. He’s keeping his wee antennae tuned to what’s happening in the neighborhood, but apparently, he’s not coming out to play or even to have a look around.
I notice that green is creeping oh so slowly into the color palette of the woods. Moss coats logs and leaf mold, waving sporophytes like flags of victory, as if to announce, yes, in fact, spring will conquer!
I notice that green is creeping oh so slowly into the color palette of the woods. Moss coats logs and leaf mold, waving sporophytes like flags of victory, as if to announce, yes, in fact, spring will conquer!
Everywhere, water gurgles and tumbles down muddy runs. Once again, I’m glad that on my recent local shoe shop visit I opted for the waterproof hikers. Looks like I’m not the only one who has been slogging along this path, leaving nothing but footprints. I know if I step in the wrong place “waterproof” won’t keep the muck from squelching its way up over the tops of the laces, but I have to smile anyway because even the mud seems to be promising “spring.”
The sun dips low in the afternoon sky, slanting its spotlight across the mountainside and highlighting the most unlikely specimen. Dead leaves never looked so stunning.
Pine needles shimmer like green crystal prisms,
and the path goes ever on and on.
I seem to be having trouble breathing deeply enough. A walk on the wild side always does this to me. My vision clears, my gratitude list stretches 2.8 miles long, and my anxieties wither like winter dried lichens.
I want to say thank you and yes and wow all at once. I think God hears my heart, and I imagine He feels the same way:
I want to say thank you and yes and wow all at once. I think God hears my heart, and I imagine He feels the same way:
And God saw everything that he had made,
and behold,
it was very good.
Genesis 1:31
and behold,
it was very good.
Genesis 1:31
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