I love to walk. There is something calming in repetitive steps. I especially like to walk with Dad. We go up into the field, sometimes deep into the forest even. To walk with Dad is freedom. He always takes his camera and I can wander about on my own within sight of him. His is a visual pleasure and mine is an auditory one. Each sound is so clear in its isolation. Geese gathering, grass whispering in wind, tree frogs chirping, and sticks cracking (though I am not supposed to break them and it costs me my string when I do it). The wind sings in my face. It blows cool and with smells delicious - someone is burning leaves or fresh mowed hay sometimes. Sometimes I even see things I can enjoy. A brightly colored balloon takes a pass now and then with passengers. I wonder at how it steers itself through the sky. Rainbows we’ve seen. And once or twice, lightening on the horizon has called us quick to home. Dad captures it with his camera. And me, I capture it with my heart and soul. It is God speaking to us, much of it. I take him in and breathe easy knowing he surrounds me.
Book Review: There’s More Than One Way Home
2 weeks ago