Friday, February 12, 2010

Glimpses of God

I love the rare, the unusual, the under-dog, the shy, the elusive, the mysterious, the miraculous. I equally love the thing so common that it is overlooked. I think God is both.

When we lived in Syracuse, NY, we had a home right on the Erie Canal. The part we lived on was pretty decrepit, but you could still walk along the tow path and see the old locks that used to raise and lower the water level. If you listened very carefully, you could hear the tow mules bray amid the shots of hunters who thought it was great sport to hunt deer along the canal, shooting towards the neighborhood filled with small children. I once demonstrated my mind boggling lack of common sense when I confronted one of those hunters with his gun dangling towards me, and told him didn't he know he was not allowed to shoot on state park lands and that there were little children playing just beyond the tree line? he didn't answer, and his gun lowered slowly, but he turned and walked away. (whew)
The path went on for endless miles, and most of it was parkland, so it was filled with nature and largely deserted. On snowy winter days of which there were approximately 300 a year in upstate NY, I would cross-country ski on the tow path. That, in and of itself was enough to make my toes curl with delight. But as though a peaceful winter wonderland with the sounds of skis swishing and the soft snow hushing the moans of troubles were not joy enough, I would invariably catch a glimpse of my favorite bird, the Great Blue Heron. It would be quiet and beautiful, and I would be contemplating deep and significant thoughts like whether I should get my hair cut.... when I would see something move out of the corner of my eye. I would look for it, whatever it was, and it would be nothing, just a shifting of snow from the bridge of my nose. And then, as I would swish off again, the heron would suddenly flap its enormous six foot wings, and it would glide down the middle of the Erie Canal. It would settle a hundred feet ahead, until I caught up, and then sail off to the sky again, leading me further down this path of peace and elusive silence. Every single time it happened, and it happened many times, I thought of God. Every time I see a Great Blue Heron, I feel the presence of God.

I am not saying that God is a Heron, mind you. But the qualities of the Heron always remind me of God. They are magnificently large and yet it is rare to see them as they are masters at blending in to their surroundings. You can pass them by and never know they are there. But if you draw close, they will always show themselves with their awesome presence bursting heavenward. I always wonder how this huge bird can be so hard to find, but so unmistakably present. If I hike while make a lot of noise, I will almost never see one.... but if I enter the forest sanctuary and still my chattering soul, and look with quiet but searching eyes, I almost always see one.

I think that is the way God reveals Himself. You can't hear Him if you are busy talking yourself, and you can't see Him if you aren't ardently looking. And just when you think you have it all figured out, like how to submit a post without underlines appearing at the most inopportune moments, He is hiding again, and all you get are glimpses from the corner of your eye. So much of the Christian life is a walk of faith, but it is not blind faith. Like the Great Blue Heron, God is there and at times His presence will manifest itself in such a dazzling life-altering way that all you can do is shield your eyes from the blinding light of the sun and watch Him draw with wings of mercy and grace the path to Heaven.

I had a glimpse last night, right before we went to bed. We had just prayed for a dear family who had been without work for a year. He had had an interview that morning, one of many he had had over the hard and draining year. I went to my computer to shut it down, weary from all the demands of the day, and of Wii Yoga which is harder than you would think.... and there was an email from my friend. Her husband had gotten the job in a most unlikely way. I could hear the beat of a heron's wings, rising like a miracle into the sky.

2 Corinthians 4:18
So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

PS_ One dog is only a few votes ahead of Honeybun in the contest. You can vote every day when you first log on, and the steps are below. Please vote for Honeybun, and help win dogfood for a year for Hollow Creek Farm.

click on this little link below and skip to step 8.
http://tinyurl.com/voteforhoneybun


1. Click on this link:
http://www.petco.com/content/storiesListheartChampion.aspx?bvcategoryid=1-9
2. In upperish right side, select "sort by OLDEST STORIES FIRST"
3. Scroll down to bottom and select page "5".
4. Scroll down to bottom and select page "6".
5. Honeybun is the second story (picture: doge sleeping on pillow,
covered with a blanket. title: A Last Chance Dog.
6. Click on "Read my story and vote"
7. Click on the 5th (rightmost) gold medal (it will say "5 stars" when
you hover over it.)
8. On the Righthand side of the page enter your/an email address and
click the continue button.
9. You will be returned to Honeybun's story page.
10. Close your BROWSER program (not just the window).
11. Repeat steps 1-10.

1 comment:

  1. You know I love the heron imagery. What a wonderful post!

    ReplyDelete

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