Then Sings My Soul



I went for a run in my favorite park a while back and all around me was life.
The trees were well on the way to their summer fullness. Wildflowers were blooming everywhere and the creek seemed to be whispering, “how great thou art”. I was surrounded by that which brought me to a faith in God; His very creation. Left to grow how they will, were trees; some were bending toward the sun competing with the towering oak and cotton wood trees for light. Underneath it all was a blanket of leaves and fallen branches. And beneath all of that was more life than I will ever know.

After running half of a mile down a steep hillside trail, I was struck with the realization that what goes down, must come back up. I stopped for a few minutes to rest and to listen. Then looking back up the hill that I had just come down, I realized that I was not going to climb that hill as quickly as I came down.
There were cyclists and skateboarders buzzing through the park, up and down the hills. I was tempted to ask if I could borrow a skateboard and pay a cyclist to pull me back up that hill. I was tempted. After entertaining the thought, I began to pick ‘em up and put ‘em down like a well-trained athlete, only slower and not as athletic. I was nearly to the end of my trek and knew that I would not be able to run up the steep hill. So I began to walk and I’m glad that I did. If I had hurried back up the hill, I would not have taken time to hear God speak through two women who offered encouragement to this beginning runner. I would not have stopped to notice the songbirds that were providing the background music or listened as the squirrels rustled through the tree branches above. I would have missed God’s voice speaking to me in the purest form; in nature, His beautiful creation.

When I finally reached the top of the trail, I headed to my car to get my guitar so that I could sit and relax a bit before returning home. There were no benches near the parking lot so I wandered a few feet into the woods to find a fallen tree. At first I listened only to the sounds around me; birds, squirrels and the occasional sound of a bicycle humming by on the trail in the distance. I began to play my guitar and the only words that I could think of were these:

“When through the woods and forest glades I wander, 
and hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees…
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to thee; 
How Great Thou Art, How Great Thou Art”

Nature to me, when unaltered by man, is God in the simplest yet most profound form. Nature’s voice is pure, nature’s voice is unafraid and uninhibited.

When I can’t find the words, then sings my soul.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Love is Not Blind

Recently I had to be away from home on business for two full weeks.  This meant being away from my husband.  With each day that I was gone I became more aware of how much I enjoy having Mike in my everyday life and I just plain missed his presence.  I do love technology and although I haven’t yet mastered Skype, we talked on the phone as often as we could and sent text messages.  Mike writes a love note for me most every day and while I was away that didn’t stop.  In fact he still wrote them with pen on paper.  He then photographed and e-mailed them to me so that I would be able to read them at the end of my work day just like I do when I’m at home.  That was an amazing thing but still I missed his smile, his eyes and his touch.  These are things that cannot be substituted. Love is blind they say.  “They” also say that my affections for my husband and this incredible desire to share every day with him will pass with time.  It seems that...
Read more

That Old Road

Image
There is just something that keeps calling me back. Maybe it's a fear that the good memories will fade with time unless I trace over and again the path to all I have become. Driving familiar roads making note of the things that remain; only older, warn and broken down. Grieving, in a small way, the things that are no longer there; houses, grocery stores, barns. Time seems the robber of memories. But what we do remember must be met with the reality that someone remembers those things differently, if at all. We remember events, people and places according to the the effect that they had on our lives. Perhaps we remember them as obstacles in our path while someone remembers them as the challenge they needed to push them to achieve more. However we remember those things, they are etched in our minds somewhere. Whether we choose to remember or not, they can creep to the front of our mind. Most would not know about a little town in Iowa called Clarion. But when I hear mention of th...
Read more

Dear Abby

After listening to break-room talk today, I decided to come home and compose a letter to Dear Abby that may have come from any one of the conversations that I witnessed.  This is in no way to be a reflection on my marriage.  I have trained my husband much better than this.  Enjoy the read and have a best day! Amy Dear Abby, Today is the day I have chosen to finally sit down to write you a letter.   I have been married to Jack Ass, (his real name) far too long.   When we met he was a perfect gentleman.   He always opened the car door for me and waited on me to be settled before closing it.   I in turn would reach across the seat to unlock his door and open it for him as a sign of returning my love.   When we would sit down at the dinner table we would hold hands and gaze lovingly at each other, sometimes forgetting why we were there.   It was bliss, I tell you, pure bliss.   We have been married for one year now and suddenly that ...
Read more