Friday, October 31, 2008

Dear God,

I watched with great interest the beautiful colored leaves of the tree outside my bedroom window. Each one painted just a tiny bit different than all the others. The uniqueness of beauty set me free to work on my book.

The seasons delight my soul. One day I look out and the trees are barren and then overnight buds appear. At the blink of my eye I see the tree in full bloom. And then one day I come home from work and you have painted the leaves. If there is any certainty in life, it is this one: The earth revolves on its axis at your word.

I am writing my book perhaps as a fulfillment to give a longer lasting meaning to my life. I write to tell the stories of my family, my experience, my learnings, my longings, my joys. But particularly that time period of the days leading up to Thanksgiving through Advent, the Winter Solstice, Christmas, Epiphany, the long, cold days of Winter. It is during this time cozy in my own skin I drop my roots down, down, down, into the deep, rich soil of growth. No one can tell I am doing anything. I may look still, quiet and I am. But more than that, I live in a season of trust during times of barrenness. It is quite possible that it is the most important time of my life. And I am recording what happens to me during these least likely visible times of life.

My moments of reflections are growing. Why, I'm not sure. Perhaps it is because I turned 62. Maybe it's because I am in a time of great transition. Perchance it is because my health at times if very fragile. I want to reflect on the greatness of this thing called life. And the intentionality of reflection means that I am conscious, aware of my being, my surroundings, and you, of course, O Lord, who gives the greatest meaning to every move I make.

My book is important to me. It may seem like a collection of stories to others. But it is much, much more than that. It is like catching on film a child at play. It is what is not being said that says so much more than the experience itself. It is like dancing with you when no one else is watching. What happens during that time is the season of the spirit.

I'm in
a particularly
quiet time,
dear God.
Although
on the outside
I appear
to be
the same
as usual,
I am not.
I'm living
under the surface,
taking in
the beauty
of the unseen,
the great mysteries
of life.
I am trusting.
I am reflecting.
I am leaning.
I am learning.
I am loving.

For you only, Andrea