All in Good Time

I may have mentioned I live in Oregon, a place renowned for its stunning flora and its ubiquitous green.  Everything is green, whether we want it to be or not.  We merely dream of white Christmases; and whereas most winters are classified by dormancy, we are enrobed in brilliant evergreen, bright lawns, and the ever-present moss that covers the ground, the sidewalks, the houses, the trees, the fences.  Are you getting the picture?

I often feel there is even a thin covering of moss on me, for lack of sufficient sunshine and activity.  Moss may not grow on a rolling stone, but it does gather on a cloistered recluse who sits and sits by the window each day, watching the incessant rain, and wondering if outdoor activity will ever be possible again.

I try to look for the blessings.  I recall to mind the beauty of my home, the abundance of trees, shrubs, and year-round flowers.  But it loses a little when most of the time they can only be enjoyed from the indoors looking out.

My body aches to stretch its legs; to climb out of this hibernating state and breathe the fresh air.  I have also realized the multiplicity of benefits from a good, swift walk around the neighborhood.  It expands my focus, expands my thinking, and expands my hope.

It also expands my productivity.  While reading this morning from an address given by Ralph Waldo Emerson at the funeral of his friend, Henry David Thoreau, I was reminded that Thoreau also placed great value on daily walks.  Emerson stated that Henry valued every stride his legs made.  "The length of his walk uniformly made the length of his writing.  If shut up in the house he did not write at all."

And characteristic of Thoreau's appetite for solitude, he seldom welcomed walking companions, but preferred the rich reward of solitary jaunts through the woods, that of personal introspection and enlightenment.

While the stouthearted would not let a little (okay, a lot of) rain keep them locked inside, I do not profess to be that sturdy.  So I guess I will continue to find worthwhile distractions within, keep an eye on any change in the weather, and anticipate some drier days.  My soul longs for the inspiration that Thoreau found on his walks.  I desire to open my eyes to the wonder of my surroundings and my ears to the whisperings of the Spirit, that can best be had with nothing overhead to restrict communication with heaven.

I know Spring is on its way, and then Summer is sure to follow.  These are the blessings of predictable change.  God knew that we would welcome a natural rhythm to our days.  Forgive my shortsightedness.  I simply must learn patience. 

All in good time, Ardith.  All in good time.