A number of us have begun to gather mid-week evenings in fellowship and even to blow off a little steam. One reflection that was shared was the longing of open green spaces; escaping the daily chaos during undergrad life and now being in the midst of the urban jungle, finding that respite was scarce. I could definitely relate.
My mind turned to the joy I experienced during my summers working at a Lutheran Bible camp in the rural wilds of Illinois. Even with the pandemonium of summer camp, there were moments I was able to follow a tangled grassy path, each step reverberating in the rhythmic beat of the lower prairie or the burst of inviting, whispering fields of honey wheat on the upper prairie, life unfettered and free.
Their laughter brought me back to the moment, as our host offered her to come and sit in the budding greenhouse he had started in the sun room to revitalize her spirit when needed.
Stepping out under the serenity of the darkness towards home, my gaze caught a view of the chapel and of the gentle, unending rush of water that flows from the baptismal font. Many of us agree this presence is calming and inviting and how we miss it when away. There is comfort knowing that whether it is eternal flow of water or the beautiful trees that grace the outside of our apartments, these simple gifts from the Creator are never far and continuing to bless our journeys.