Thursday, November 30, 2006

Dearest God,

Yesterday was a gray, rainy day. I drove downtown, parked at the Wishard Garage, then walked to IU Hospital. Having calcium problems. I failed to go to the hospital when I became ill last weekend. Supposed to go for fluids to keep my system in balance. But I was in Michigan and I had a wedding to do that evening. Thought diarrhea was different than vomiting (it is, but not for my purposes) So I have the tingling, weakness, strange feelings. Knew I had to get a blood draw.

As I strolled down the walkway, the streets, walks and landscape were littered with thousands of large, soft, wet brown pin oak leaves. Flat yet piled atop one another, I stopped to stare. I leaned down to pick one up. As I stood gazing at the beauty before me, there was a soft murmuring of song. I just stood, looked around. I was held in a beautiful moment. As I inspected the trees that held these leaves since springtime, I felt the whisperings of God. "I have done what I was called to do." My eyes moistened as I muttered, "I know."

The trees, each one an object of art, are designed to lean toward heaven, then bud, grow, beautify, then release, let go, expose its bare branches, stand vulnerable all winter. And that is exactly what they do. I've never seen a tree that refused to surrender its magnificent color.

I was touched by this rare scene. Yes, I had to hurry into the hospital because I was late due to a car accident on the corner. But when I returned wearing my Garfield bandage, I lingered once again, amazed at the signs of God beckoning,

How I long to be like the trees. I too wish to be a piece of art, strikingly beautiful, designed to do what only I can do uniquely. And I desire to fulfill my own life's calling. Then to be willing to bare myself before God, letting go, like the tree, the leaves. And although no one notices the quiet process, to stand alone leaning toward heaven. Until the next time.

What awesome beauty is mine
as I stand,
a work of your hands.
To behold the majesty
of your creation
titillates my mind.
My soul's juices form,
stimulating the rest of my being.
God is near,
I tell myself,
God is so near.
Take notice!
Don't miss one moment,
not one.
Behold.
And behold again.
A tree is evermore beautiful
starkly naked
as it is in full color.
Because it is doing
creation's work.
Year after month
after week
after day
after minute
after moment
after milisecond,
leaning toward heaven.

Humbly, Andrea