Monday, October 11, 2010

Running Away to Home


God was making an appearance and they didn't want to miss it.
The mountains rushed in waves, rolling their shoulders against each other,
throwing themselves into the arms of God.

Me too! I want to see God!
And I did. All around me.

Whenever I'm wandering, my feet beg to find their place on a mountain path.
My hands plead to turn off the light, to shut the door on a house full of laundry and dishes, to leave sentences dangling on the computer screen, the phone ringing in the kitchen.
Let's run away.
Please.

We go to the mountains and they welcome us.

We've been waiting for you.
Growing, dying, blooming, decaying,
while you spin,

do your human things.

We breathe God's breath. He pulses through our veins, sings to the earth through the water trickling on rock, whispers to us in the brush of leaves against leaves, fluttering by the wind.


We start our hike, and all thoughts of doing and earning and accomplishing somehow dissolve into the mountain air.

On the path, there is only listening. The crunch of the underbrush as we walk, the break of twigs as squirrels jump from tree to tree, the faint gurgling of water in the creek bed down below us.

There is only smelling. The decay, the leaves fallen years before, now broken into soil. The pines. The rhododendron.

There is only seeing.
The trees, stretching into the sky, reminding me of my smallness

and God's greatness.

We walk, and it strikes me.
The beauty in all the messiness.

The tangled vines. The fallen leaves, the moss, softening our footsteps.
The stumps decaying, the beetles crawling,
the life thriving in all the brokenness.

The path reminds me of what I left behind.
The way the light grows dim at times.
The way my feet lead me into uncertain places.

I must keep walking.
Trusting.


Sometimes you can barely see the light.
But it's there.



And if I can let my eyes adjust,
brace myself against the urge to bolt,
if I can breathe and take a look around,
I see the beauty blooming in the darkness, out of the layers of what came before and was broken.
It's right there at my feet!


I can spend a moment looking, listening.
And when the time is right, I can listen for the water.
I let God's creeksong guide me out of the darkness.


And I'm filled with gratitude.
So much can come from brokenness. From wandering.
I'm so thankful!

I see the water over rock, and I'm reminded of the stone at Horeb.
Remember the story?
God's people were so thirsty, and there was nothing to drink.
"At least when we were in slavery," they cried, "we had water! We would not die of thirst!"
God told Moses to strike the rock, and the water burst forth.
Water, out of a broken stone!

I tell the story and I remember Another One, a Rock, broken to offer living water to all.
Wash me in it, God! Soak me!

Where do you go when you need to hear God's voice? Is there a special place that makes it easier for you to get in touch with the Holy One?

I hope that you have a wonder-full Monday, y'all!
Much love to you! Becky

Last photo by Just Us 3, creative commons

PS. I happened upon this commercial recently and it spoke to me--in a weird way! It reminds me of how crazy it is when we think we have to do everything ourselves. It reminds me Who holds the real power. It's so creative! Enjoy.

10 comments:

Sharon said...

Where do I go? Sometimes, I'm led to a beautiful post like this one and I hear God's voice very clearly. It feels like coming home to kindred spirits and a wild God. Thank you!

When I intentionally go to hear God's voice, a walk is usually the thing, whether on city sidewalks or a hike in the woods.

Mompriest said...

Years ago I would go to a near by dog park. It has wooded areas and open fields and a little lake. But we aren't members right now, it's too expensive for us.

so, now I just go for walks where ever I am. I love the changing season. And next week I'll be at clergy conference which is held at a retreat center north of here, and also includes woods and a lake. It takes about an hour to walk around the lake. So I look forward to that.

I also try to meditate every day, finding God in the silence.

Laura said...

Oh, just beautiful, Rebecca! Looks like a God-encounter to me. Thanks for taking me with you on this lovely hike!

Green Girl in Wisconsin said...

Like you did, I head outdoors. Alone.

Barb said...

Oh Becky, what a beautiful post (well, they all are).
I spend lots of time in the car and that is where it is still and I can hear clearly.

xoxox,
Barb

lotusgirl said...

That commercial is really cool. Thanks for sharing it.

Laura said...

Oh, Becky...I have a feeling I would run smack dab into you on the path, revelling in God's creeksong. (Oh, that I could!)

Kat said...

Nature always makes me feel close to God. It never fails. It is so easy to see Him everywhere I look when I am alone in nature.

Roxane B. Salonen said...

Boy, I don't think I have ever experienced such synchronicity in the blogosphere as I have with the frequency of our parallel posts. Once again, we were in a very similar place recently and felt called to write about it in very similar fashion. My "God is in Honesdale" post right before the one you visited also connected with this one. And I, too, took a walk in nature by a creek bed, in the fall, and breathed it all in. You basically described my walk for me -- what a beautiful gift. So glad you're out here to remind me of how cozy and comforting a faraway connection can be! :)

Silicon Valley Diva said...

What an uplifting post. When I hike is when I most feel His presence. We have the most beautiful redwoods a few miles away and I could stand and stare at them for hours. It's mesmorizing!