I walk out the door, escaping what is feeling like mayhem. That which comes from half a dozen or so children, on a Friday afternoon. I walk out to shut out the sounds and energy that again threaten to overwhelm this mother of four.
A walk to the mailbox is as much a I hope for. Children inside with instruction to complete various "picking up" chores. Thumbing through more mundane mailings, I walk around to the back where I go to gaze at green. For us, an Eden among a city of grime.
Looking away from the street, I can gaze on a combination of field, pond and wood. A multi-hued, green world which teems with life. I breathe, and sit to take it in. I am learning to close out the sounds of traffic and focus on other, smaller sounds. The sounds of winds and wings in branches. Delicate bird-song over the Circadian percussion. Water bubbling over ancient rocks. Furry creatures chatter to one another in wild gossip and daring.
Narrowing my vision, I can see the waving branches of trees and bobbing heads of clover. Dandelion fluff floats by on an unseen current. Cotton clouds cover the sky. Birds of several descriptions flit about, arguing over available food items.
Not content with the senses yet used. I reach out to connect with the coarseness which protects the heart of the tree next to me. Bringing a handful of clover to my nose, I breathe in the freshness.
This beauty I absorb. I take it in, and remind myself that my life is more than a sum of days, of loads of laundry, of dirty dishes, of piling bills. I am alive. I am connected to Creation because I have been made by the same Creator. A Creator Who cared enough to give me this beauty to enjoy.
I think of the others, inside the walls, who are also alive. Made in His image. Given to me for a short time, for the express purpose of imprinting them with Him. "Teach them My words, show them My love, and allow them to learn what it means to connect with Me, their Creator---their Saviour." The Spirit speaks in a still, small voice. I listen.
Such a daunting task for one who is only learning herself, what these things mean. His Word teaches that what He asks of us, He will also provide strength to do. That we may "come apart", but not give up. Can I do less than this for the One Who suffered all for me? No. Because of this, I turn back toward the street, walk in my door, and timidly smile at children----made in His image.
"And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not." (Gal.6:9)
"Holding forth the word of life; that I may rejoice in the day of Christ, that I have not run in vain, neither laboured in vain." (Phil.2:16)
"And he said unto me, 'My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.' Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me." (II Cor. 12:9)