The Day Dawns Brave

May 6: Three Gifts in Christ

1. Walking through the field and sharing my worries with Him

2. Finding rest in Him when I run dry

3. Being in His presence as I look at His world through the lens of a camera

With the weather finally warming up, my frequent trips out to our front yard begin again. A concept that I’ve always found intriguing, and wanting to apply to my own life, is the idea that the outdoors can become as comfortable to one as the indoors. These past couple summers I’ve worked on trying to put that concept into practice. It’s so freeing when you can change your perspective and for even just a few moments view the whole world as one big gigantic home and that you belong exactly where you are at that moment. And that concept becomes all the more appealing as our senior living home becomes more filled up with people. One by one my private spots I’d retreat to get away from the human race disappear. Thankfully we’ve got a sprawling front yard. The freedom to speak out loud; either to myself or to God, and not worry about others hearing and thinking I belong in a psych ward, is something that I’d never experienced in our tiny yard in the suburbs of the Cities. So that’s where I find myself wandering to this morning; as the week ahead of me lays out exciting and scary. I talk with Jesus, telling Him my fears and worries for the upcoming week. Out here in the field, with the wind blowing in my face, all the problems seem to melt away.

By lunch time I can feel the life draining out of me. Literally. My muscles barely want to hold up my head. The chili in front of me looks exactly like the last thing I want to put into my mouth right now. I try any way. But evidently my eyes were more in tune with my stomach than my mind, because my stomach feels queasy as I swallow. Pushing the bowl away, I realize I don’t even feel hungry. I cram another corn bread into my mouth just for calorie’s sake and swallow a couple more mandarin oranges. Then I get up and leave the table. Going into my room, I worry that I might be getting sick. The window is open and the breeze coming in makes me shiver. Curled up on my bed, I whisper to God; “all I need is rest. Let my soul find rest.” Then, though I know I shouldn’t, I fall asleep.

The skies have clouded over again and as I wait for Mom to come pick me up I take pictures. I had volunteered to be the photographer for an outreach ministry that mentors kids as they interact with horses and learn to ride them. The girls brushed the horses and braided their hair, and I took pictures. Afterwards, I wandered aimlessly down the driveway of the farm, letting the camera lead me from one picture to another. While I stood and waited, I talked with the dog. At first all he did was growl at me; but as I made it clear to him that it didn’t matter to me what he thought about me, he settled down and just sat and watched me. Gazing up, the white barn towers above me. The white painted weather vane spins in the strong gusts of wind. A farmer drives a tractor through his field nearby, plowing or planting; I’m not sure. I slow and take it all in. See. Feel. Capture. This is what I remind myself as I slowly set each picture up, waiting for the right moment; the right feeling. I feel the simple peace of coming outside of the complicated problems going in circles inside of me as I look at the world through eyes of wonder and then focus on capturing that moment as I experience it. So this is what I am… a poet that captures what she sees and feels; trying desperately to share just a little piece of the world that she experiences. I take a deep breath of dusty, windy air and thank God. It’s all so beautiful and I feel like I’m where I belong.