This morning was an English morning. This morning begged for a nice long ramble. It was the kind of morning that gently crept over the horizon in soft blues and pinks, and whispered in one's ear, "Come walk with me. For I have secrets to tell you..."This morning beckoned and I was helpless against its call. This is one of my favorite ways to begin the day, for there is something about getting out into the world at the start of a new day, while everything is still clean and fresh and bathed in the retreating night.
"Me thinks that the moment my legs begin to move, my thoughts begin to flow." ~HenryDavid Thoreau
"Walks. The body advances, while the mind flutters around it like a bird." ~Jules Renard
Yes, I couldn't agree more, Mr. Thoreau and Mr. Renard. For you see, one of my favorite things is to ramble about, either in the silent dawning of an early morning or in the gentle rain of any time of day. Nice long rambles, with nowhere particular to go, dreaming of Winnie the Pooh, fairies, and Narnia around every corner, and listening to nothing but the place I happen to be rambling through. Often, I find that the songs that are quietly sung when I'm alone and quietly tip-toeing through some wood, are the most beautifully simple melodies one can hear. Birds perform gentle solos intertwined with harmonies of those who might be flying by. Rivers rush or creeks slowly hum along, knowing all there is to know about everything. Winds blow or breezes saunter through rustling leaves, creating a myriad texture of sounds. Perhaps, the gentle tap-tap of rain touches upturned branches and tiny creatures scurry here and there through tall, stately grasses back to their little homes and burrows. Yes, in such a state, I could be the greatest writer ever (haha, not by far)...except, I can never seem to hold the wonderful thoughts I've come up with on said rambles captive long enough to get them down on paper. Oh well, I suppose you'll have to trust that I do indeed have incredible things to write when I'm rambling about over field and glen. Perhaps, one day I'll actually accomplish the impossible and get some of my grand ideas and adventures from mind, to ink, to pen, to paper. Perhaps:-)
This morning's ramble was quite enchanting, I must say. The sun was peeping over the horizon and everything was drenched in that wonderful pink that only comes about with the rising of the sun. It's entirely different from the mysterious pink that creeps in with the evenings. I'm not sure which is my favorite....The place I saunter through truly could be in England...or Narnia:-) I almost imagined myself there this morning, for everything seemed to have that "otherworldly" quality that comes only so often. The golden sun was just breaking over the river and through the trees, when there, bathed in that golden light, was a beautiful doe. She was standing right in the middle of the gently flowing river and seemed to be golden herself. Such a sight rendered me totally transfixed and that familiar ache grabbed my heart...do you know the ache I'm talking about? Not the kind that hurts in a bad way, but the kind that comes when something is so beautiful all it can do is hurt.
I stood watching her, until finally she sauntered up the opposite bank and bounded through the trees out of sight. It's at moments like this one, when I am so overwhelmed with something so incredibly beautiful, that I think of Heaven and I wonder how anything can be even more beautiful then what I may be seeing at the time....but, I know it must be because I long for so much more. And I can just imagine Him slowly smiling and saying, "Oh, your soul can not even comprehend what I have prepared for you. That which your eyes have never seen even a shadow of..." That thought makes me long for my home more than I can find words to express. Not only the home coming, but more than all of that, to just gaze upon His face. This is what I long for more than anything else, with every fiber of my being. And I think, "Come, Lord Jesus, come!" Yet, at the same time, I do not want to wish away the here and now that He has me in. Though it may be filled with pain and suffering, there are still just as many times of beauty and joy. For He is good to wait. Good because there are so many in my life (and yours perhaps?) who would not be going home if He came today. And this thought makes me cry out for the boldness to tell them of who He is and what He has done for them.
And so, I'm so very thankful for these aching beautiful moments that make me long for more...for they are a gentle reminder of what is to come and what truly matters while I'm still in this moment here on earth.
How can you explain that you need to know that the trees are still there, and the hills and the sky? Anyone knows they are. How can you say it is time your pulse responded to another rhythm, the rhythm of the day and the season instead of the hour and the minute? No, you cannot explain. So you walk. ~Author unknown, from New York Times editorial, "The Walk," 25 October 1967