Tuesday, May 17, 2011
It seems that days have a kind of landscape, one that I survey shortly after opening my eyes. Some rise abruptly, full of peaks and crags, rocky and harsh. On these days, I know I will have to face difficulties or conflicts. On some days, dense trees huddle in a sheltering darkness, close and occasionally dank. This happens when the day promises to fill with chores, fine in themselves, but impeding a higher view. While I am under them, I can't see the sky. But some days stretch clear and open, like a meadow or a ripe field. Their horizon stretches unbroken from compass end to end where even no clouds interrupt their serenity. On days like this, obligations can wait, and both mind and body have permission to drift slowly in contemplation of Your glory.
Today started out like a meadow. The only things of this world that crowded around were Your Word and a soft cover. The chimes blew gently, singing in the breeze. Morning birds called for their breakfast. You spoke sweetly to my heart about Your love.
Then the phone rang. Everything changed. Suddenly familiar trees sprang up like intractable weeds that I tried to push aside, but would not move. My rimless plain vanished like a mirage. Traffic noise drowned out the birdsong. A tractor muffled the chimes. I got up with heavy feet.
Later, pushing the lawnmower, trying to find You, I lifted my face for a moment. There, in the middle of what I perceived as forest, I could smell fresh cut grass. As I ducked beneath the branches, I noticed them round and full with apple blossoms. You called me to the trees again today, but made even them beautiful in Your sight.
Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places. Ps 16:5-6