Creeks and cathedrals
March 27, 2011 § 2 Comments
I do not enjoy that my weekends go so quickly. I do enjoy filling them well.
Yesterday I played with horses, in a workshop for volunteering with a therapeutic riding program. I was surprised to find myself pressing my eyelids to avoid tears. My older brother participated in such a program when we were kids, back in the Minnesota days. He has autism and mild cerebral palsy and I remember him thrilled with the way the movements of the horse allowed his body to move as well. I was jealous (I, after all, was the officially horse-crazy ten-year-old) but also happy. And I got to come along, to pet “his” horse on the nose, to smell the good smell of hay and horses. My response at the workshop of course was different: another reminder of his struggle, and persistence, and thankfulness for the people who have joined in working with him towards yet another measure of freedom. I expect more freedom will come. We always pray for his healing. Wait for it!
The riding center ultimately is a place for encouragement and growth, and worth giving up my lazy Saturday morning. In the late afternoon I met with a friend so she and I and her new baby and my good dog (who’s actually been very naughty lately) could go for a walk. The day was delightfully cloudy – oh how I crave the cloudy days in sunny Colorado, just for the reflective quiet they encourage.
I love walking and talking. I love it. It feels good in my body and good in my spirit, connecting with a friend, considering the world, appreciating and encouraging each other. Being outside. It is one of the best forms of multi-tasking.
Aren’t these fabulous trees? How Wyeth-like, the grays and blues and tans of this day.
Miss T. does not talk but she does swim. Happily our walk was along a creek, so she she (undeservedly) had the privilege of being let loose from the leash to get in. She generally trots up to her knees at first, pauses, wades around, then goes deeper and lowers her body down. You can practically hear her sigh, “Aaaaah,” as some of us would on a hot August day, or upon slipping into a hot springs after a long hike with sore muscles.
And after that she plays and jumps and runs and attacks sticks. As you can see.
T. and bliss.
Today, Sunday. Morning toast before church.
Cinnamon sugar. Butter. These are gifts in my small world. Miss T., do not beg! This is all for me. She knows she will still very likely get the dry corners. Lucky, she is, and a mite spoiled, still she is mine and well and always near.
I am in that split-ness of being between churches and it’s a little unsettling. But God shows up in warmth and power in these places; I can’t explain so much as invite. Basic structures become His cathedrals of worship, His temples of healing. It’s the sort of thing you have to experience. Not just words but presence. He is. He loves.
The world seems a series of obstacles and troubles so often. This is a weekend of gratitude.