Out on my walk, I stop to admire a single red rose that looks to be the guardian of the garden. It reaches up over the fence, questioning my motive for having stopped in front of its yard. “Just wanting to experience God,” I explain. I bury my nose in its opened petals and breathe in His perfume. The other flowers in the yard bob on the breeze, their little heads nodding hello. I wave to them, seeing the Creator in all their cheery faces. The breeze picks up and teases my scarf, pulling it away from my face. I reach up and secure it, laughing.
“Good morning, God, I call out. I walk on— old woman in a baggy coat— filling my heart with all that God created for us.
The rain finally stopped as the sun opened her sleepy eyes and peered over the horizon. I tugged on my boots and zipped up my heavy jacket. Outside, I sucked the cold air deep into my lungs, grateful that they were healthy, and set out to explore the promise of the new day.
Hiking down the hill, I saw a kettle of vultures circling over the treeline, intent upon something below. Off in the distance, at the base of the slope by the gravel road, the song of the creek called to me as it made its way over sticks and stones. I cupped my hand to my ear and heard the tapping of a woodpecker somewhere deep in the forest ahead. Shakespeare, my little dog, caught up to me, his tail wagging his whole body with joy. I reached down and stroked his head before he bounded off, lured by some invisible scent.
I watched and listened to life waking up around me— to life seeking the same things we all seek—love and safety. “We are all in this together, aren’t we, God,” I said.
“Yes. All of my creation is bound together as one,” God replied.
I closed my eyes and lifted my face to the sun, allowing her to caress my face with her warm fingers. I whistled for Shakespeare and the three of us began the uphill climb back to the house, my heart full of all that is.
Give thanks in all circumstances.
~1 Thessalonians 5:18
The phone rang in the middle of the night, rousing me from my slumber. The voice on the other end was filled with fear. “I’m on my way,” I said and quickly got dressed in the dark. The drive to the hospital seemed to take an eternity. I did my best to push away the frightening images that began to flash in my mind.
As I turned the last corner into the parking lot, I felt a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Give thanks,” God said above the din of my racing thoughts.
“Now?” I asked, shaking my head. Didn’t God realize this wasn’t the time for thanksgiving, but rather a time for worry and concern?
“Yes. Now,” He answered. I parked the car and walked quickly towards the after-hours entrance. Again, God spoke to me. “Give thanks.”
As I walked the long hallways I began to say thank you for all the good that was unfolding, even in this frightening situation. My legs felt strong beneath me as I focused on gratitude. My breathing slowed and my mind became increasingly calm and clear. By the time I got to the room and walked in, I felt God’s presence shining from me, lighting the way in the dark of the unknown that stretched before us.
Give thanks in all things.
~1 Thessalonians 5:18
Morning arrived on her soft feet, confidently walking into the world. She bathed the yard with a pale light, convincing the night to loosen its grip. I should have been grateful for her appearance, but I was not; my heart too full of fear and worry.
“Why not give thanks for this day?” God whispered in my ear as I spooned my overnight oats into a bowl. “You’re so glum this morning.”
“I know this day is a gift you’ve given me, but I can’t seem to shake off the negativity I’ve been feeling,” I answered honestly. “The things that are seemingly wrong in my life overshadow the good things,” I explained.
God rested His hand on my shoulder. “Things are simply things,” He said softly. You are the one who judges if they are good are bad.”
I ate my breakfast in silence, pondering God’s words. I remembered that there can be no darkness in light. Just as the sun chased away the night, God can turn what I think are negative things into positive outcomes. I thought back to all the myriad of challenges in my life and remembered that things had always worked out. And I had always grown from the experience.
“My worried thoughts kept me from saying thank you, this morning. I didn’t want to face my challenges today. But with your help, I’ll move toward them, embrace them, and learn from them. I’ll allow your light to shine in their dark corners,” I said.
Just then, the sun peeked into the kitchen window, spilling a beam of light across the kitchen floor. I stood in it, lifting my face to its warmth. “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you.”
When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers…
The sun dipped below the horizon, waving goodbye to the day. The sky looked as if God had broken open a pumpkin with His gentle hands and poured out all of the colors inside. How beautiful it was! I sat on the wooden bench under the pear tree and admired the sunset as the night slowly erased the orange and ochre tones.
“Thank you, God, for my eyes that see your beauty. Thank you, for my heart that feels your love. I am humbly grateful.” I whispered as the dark reached out her cold fingers across the meadow. I buttoned my coat and tied my scarf tighter.
“You’re welcome. Here, let me keep you warm,” God said and put His arm around me. “Shall I walk you back to the cottage?”
“I don’t want to go in just yet,” I said. “I want to stay here with you a little longer.”
“I’ll light your way when you are ready,” He replied and lifted the full moon into the dark sky. Its soft lantern of light cast a glow across the meadow. I sat there for quite some time, enjoying everything about my life. Enjoying everything about God.
When the stars began to shine, I rose and began my way back to the cottage to build a fire to warm my body as I slept, trusting that God would keep heart and soul warm.
Even in your old age, I am God. I will take care of you.
The gate pushed open with a rusty groan. I should oil that, I thought as I walked over to what was left of the garden. A few tomatoes, shriveled and sagging earthward, hung heavy from their branches. I walked to where the squash had grown. The once hardy plants. now unrecognizable, were returning to the soil. Even the still-standing kale looked tattered and forlorn. A rotten apple squished beneath my shoe—its slippery mess now flattened beneath my weight. I scraped off the slime on the grass. A damp wind blew through the trees and I shivered.
“The garden looks rather sad, God,” I said. “But there is a sacred beauty to it.”
“Not everyone can see it,” God said. “To some, it would be depressing.”
“Not to me. I see your handiwork. I have a great respect for the process going on here.”
“All of life is in my care. Even in old age. Even in death,” God said softly.
I nodded. “You are a mystery, God. But I trust you, even with the end of life.”
I looked up and saw a lone bird flying above the fruit trees, its brown body blending in with the dark clouds. A drop of rain fell. Then another. And another. I turned my collar to the wind and made my way back to the cottage, feeling quiet and humble, appreciative of whatever time I have left here on the planet.