I Wonder as I Wander: The Power of Observation in the Outdoors Over Hurts & Hang-ups
We have lived all over.
Texas, Virginia, Louisiana, Hawaii, Kansas, Mexico…and now, Colorado. And while Colorado could seem like an easy “win” for the award of Most Beautiful Places on Earth,” with the observant eye - beauty is everywhere.
In Texas, every spring, the bluebonnets pop out of the ground. Their blue blanket of joy spreads from highways to backways, reminding me that God makes all things new. No matter how many ice storms, or how many emotional outbursts happened in my house over the last year - God makes all things new. One time we had 2 bluebonnets pop up in our yard. My husband carefully mowed around them, because they are precious, precious reminders.
In Northern Virginia, along the Potomac River, trees are preserved right next to concrete. I used to pack up two baby boys in a jogging stroller and run along that path for miles. The trees shaded me for the moment from the struggles of Army-wife-life, and my lack of control over my days. Where would the Army move us next? How bad would the baby’s colic be tonight? Yet, on that trail, wings of green would bring the cool protection I so desperately needed.
In western Louisiana, like east Texas, the trees go on forever. There’s no telling what the first humans to the area had to do to cultivate the land and live. These trees, tall and strong, would sing worship to the Lord, long before my eyes ever beheld them.
In Hawaii, I would hike the 27 switchbacks of the cliff down the backside of Molokai, just steps away from our little house. Stepping over donkey poop, slipping in the mud, I marveled how God could simultaneously create such a beautiful place - and create my body to get up and down this 3000 ft. cliff. As I brushed past broad leaves, creepy bugs would try to hitch a ride on my shoes. Do you hitch rides on others’ shoes? Are you guys in other parts of Polynesia, or just here? How big is a God that knows you exist on my shoe right now, and also knows how many hairs are on my head?
In Kansas, it was the sky…so huge, so wide. The sunsets there are truly magnificent and go on for days (since you can practically feel the curvature of the earth there, ha). As I drove our 5 kids to so many destinations no less than an hour away, I had time to contemplate…to be…in…wonder. How does God decide to make wisps of clouds versus fluffy ones? How far will that black storm front travel across North America before it dissipates? The big-ness of the Kansas sky cannot be measured by human means…nor can the big-ness of the God that created it.
Along the western coast of Mexico, seasons don’t seem to change…but don’t tell that to the flowers, bushes, and trees that sense the tilt of the earth and the difference of 10 degrees fahrenheit…and bloom all manner of colors. Have you ever seen a tree that blooms red? Or touch a fallen purple petal that is softer than silk? On long walks, I would pick up these fallen blooms and hold them, as I walked…just so I could lift my sense of touch to a new depth…drawn by the power of a delicate flower.
In Colorado, it would seem easy to comment on the vast beauty of purple mountains majesty - of which I do marvel every single day. Yet, it’s in the unexpected notice of eroded gravel after a rain, that leads me into wonder. Look at the pattern of big, medium, and small rocks…laced among dirt and sand. When did God invent gravity and how did we learn that waterfalls were beautiful?
Hurts are real…but so is God, in His creation. Let’s not miss what He is trying to say: that He loves us, and that we are worth much more than lilies, hitch-hiking bugs, grand skies, and even the magnificence of mountains.
