If I look down the valley, I see evidence of man’s hand dotting the view. No doubt man has, at times, built in harmony with the environment. But, right now, every attempt seems a blemish on the landscape. As I look up into the untouched, green, rain swept hills I am thrilled with hope and a sense of invincibility. The entirety of my nebulous doubts and fears seem to dissolve before the reality of this scene. The road curves out of view before me, but there is no uncertainty about what lies ahead. All is well. I wish that this moment, this feeling could endure forever.
It makes me wonder about Eden; about before The Fall. I wonder about the world when God proclaimed that “it was good.” There were no cares, no fears, no schedules to meet. There was no curse of work or pain. No radio or television or computers or smart phones. There were no entertainment icons. No jealousy, envy, or strife between men. No greed or malicious intent or shame. No reason to be angry or impatient or frustrated; Only God and His perfect creation.
Eden was as much a spiritual place as a real, physical one; A place of the heart, where nothing stood between The Maker and his Creation. The Garden was a spiritual place that we have abandoned, but can and may return to. And that’s what these few moments walking Dylan are like for me. I don’t want them to end. They are a prescient look into Heaven where the breeze and men’s constructs are at my back and I face the sun and The Maker.
As I’m thinking these thoughts, I hear a muffled, “Dad!” I stop walking and look around. I am at about the farthest part of my walk. About a quarter of a mile away, I see Ben on Brice. Even though it had only been a few minutes since we had seen each other, my heart leaps to see him here, with me in this tableau. I wave and he waves back. It is so quiet that I barely have to raise my voice as I point to the highest hills above us and say, “It snowed up there!” He looks and nods “Yeah!” We both look to the snowy hills in the distance. I turn back to him, and he waves and says, “I’ll see you back at the barn!” As he trots away, my eyes unaccountably brim with tears. There’s just something about being hailed by your son in a place such as this. To be acknowledged by him and to have him look forward to seeing you again, soon.
A voice in my heart says, “This is how I feel when My sons call to Me and include Me and look forward to seeing Me again.” I understand, Lord. I understand.
All photos by me.
This is re-posted at LL Barkat's On, In and Around Mondays at her Seedlings in Stone Blog, here: