Dad was a pretty serious kind of guy, but if you watched closely, you would catch glimpses of his humor. He had the best smile! One would never guess he had so much on his mind. So much responsibility. So much caring for the least amongst us. For those who struggled in life. Maybe he could relate to them. Having 10 (make that 12, counting himself and mom), mouths to feed, he and mom certainly had no time for themselves. Sure...they both had their sanctuaries. Mom's was her garden of flowers. She was grateful for the garden where our food grew, and tended to it daily, but her flower garden was her sanctuary. But dad...
Dad would tell us he would be back in a bit, and head to the upper pasture where there were plenty of trees to prop up against, and plenty of open space to knell and seek instructions for the life he had been called to. I'm fairly certain he enjoyed the large patches of blackberry clusters he had to work his way around, as he headed toward his favorite tree. He most likely grabbed a few along the way, being careful not to reach in too far because of the chiggers that would attach themselves to him. Chiggers are a definite distraction!
As a child, I often wondered what he was doing in the woods for such a long time. As an adult, I pretty much know. Yet, I can only imagine the groanings he must have presented to God. Or the amount of worship he offered, as he thanked God for sending his son to cover our sinful nature and for the Holy Spirit who guides us when we don't know up from down, or just how we can manage the days and nights of being given the charge to guide others, in addition to taking care of his own family.
As children, at least back in the era from which I came, we were not allowed in adult conversation. I can 't recall a time when I was even aware such a thing was happening. Yet it must have been. I do remember a time that I overhead Dad telling Mom the church he pastored had warned him about his new found faith of being holy spirit filled. He would have to leave the church if he preached about it. He loved the people of that church, so much so, that he withheld what God had shown him, had poured into him. Having heard this conversation, I was affected by it. In a most negative way. I wondered how he felt, knowing God had given him fresh understanding, yet wasn't permitted to share it with those he held close. Did he struggle because of it? Pretty sure he did.
Still, Dad had his sanctuary that he visited almost every day. There wasn't much time that he could remove himself from the daily needs of working a farm and running a sawmill. He had to make the time; remove himself from that life, in order to navigate it. I wonder if his heart pulled at him as he waited for the time he could commune with God and nature, knowing it was there he could let everything go while reaping the psychological benefits of spending time, alone with his thoughts, as he stepped from all the distractions that pulled him down. He must have loved his time with God. He must have loved the freedom his spirit felt as he encountered God's life-giving presence. It's what held him together. Of this I am sure. Simply put, Dad's sanctuary healed and restored him.
This blog post was formed to remind me of this fact, should I ever get too busy in this retirement I never saw coming. We all need a sanctuary. One that lets us commune with nature. One that allows us to breathe in deeply and exhale slowly. I know no better place than in God's tree filled forests with open skies that allows our soul to stretch and leave behind (if even for a moment in time), the cares that pull at us daily. My sister, Becky, could tell you how refreshing it is. Probably the reason she loved Colorado's mountains and waterfalls. And the reason she uninvited me (you read that right), and my husband from going on a trip with her and Den one year. But that's another story...
Looking for my "forest bath", as always, here you will find me...in Mary's World.
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