We've had amazing rains and cool weather and the wildflowers have popped. Fields of them.
It's been great fun to drive through parks or hike on trails and see ....
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| Sunflowers |
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| Purple burgamot |
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| White yarrow.... |
Last week a new friend and I rode about twelve miles- uphill first, then down back to the car. That sequence always feels like a reward. We're just getting to know each other so we shared our stories, and everything from food preferences to our respective marriages. We are both widows, eat healthy or weird depending on your perspective, and met at a contemplative workshop so our faith is the glue. It's a relationship I can see blossoming.
At one point on the trail, we rode through a tunnel of decent length . You enter from the sunlight into the tunnel and the light penetrates about twenty feet onto the rough hewn stone. The path is ahead and you can easily see the opening at the other end, with the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel showing the stone walls again. Up to 1949 a passenger train traveled through this very tunnel. Obviously there's plenty of room for a bike or two, even side by side.
But in the middle, between the patches of light that glisten off the dark sides, it is pitch dark. Disorientatedly dark. For a few seconds stretching into eternity, you are suspended. No sound, no light, no boundaries. Only your head knows you are still traveling toward light.
My friend and I were quiet but after a few yards out of the tunnel, we looked at each other. "That was uncomfortable." And off we rode down the trail. Safe in the light.
My friend and I were quiet but after a few yards out of the tunnel, we looked at each other. "That was uncomfortable." And off we rode down the trail. Safe in the light.
Humans need boundaries. We use our senses to orient ourselves in the world. We see the horizon, we hear footsteps or cars approaching. We feel the edge of the door frame in the dark of the night to get back to bed. We even sniff before we eat and drink to confirm our food. When all of those senses are removed or blocked, we are lost.
What are other boundaries we need to keep our humanness "real",
to be "found", not lost?
I love the saying, "Don't doubt in the dark what was revealed in the light." Riding into the light at the beginning of the tunnel and seeing the light at the other end told me that the tunnel continued safely through. The floor didn't disappear in the center. The walls were still safely there and holding up the stone ceiling. But the utter darkness removed the signals I rely on to understand my world.
I had to trust.
I've been in other types of darkness. I've lost my moorings and the old reliable symbols of safety in my world. I've struggled with anger and wondered where the Transforming God was in all my frustration. I've wandered in the darkness of depression and wondered where the Comforting God was. I have held my precious child gasping for breath in the throes of asthma and I've sat at the deathbed of my beloved husband shuddering in the last breaths of life. Where is the Healing God in that void?
I didn't always trust what I knew was true. My intellect only went so far to keep me grounded. The bike ride through the void was only seconds long. It is much harder to remain in the darkness of disorientation when it lasts weeks, months or years.
At the time I didn't comprehend the Light at the other end of my emotional darkness. But He was there.
My anger didn't just go away. I discovered the root of fear in my anger. God, who does transform, gently and slowly worked in me. One day I realized I was no longer the angry woman I had been. I was changed.
My years of learning about myself through depression gave me the strength to be gentle with that self when I could have truly fallen off the edge of grief. I learned deep in my spirit, there is always hope and resting in Him will eventually lead back to the light, back to the path.
My child with asthma grew up to be a runner and a man who is mindful of his health and now the health of his own child. He is compassionate and intentional about his body. He has learned the limits of the human frame and, more importantly, the power of God to maintain health or heal to build faith.
And my husband passed into eternity, not easily or sweetly but fighting for every breath just like he fought for esteem and confidence in life. His body could not overcome the Fall, just as none of ours will. But his spirit was healed by the God who is as interested in our spiritual wholeness as we are in our physical health.
Boundaries include more than physical ones. I observe when I'm missing the grounding of solitude or silence or a good night's rest. I chose to be more aware of the visceral responses in my body when I'm confronted or offended. He is teaching me something new and healing my spiritual wounds. And just like riding in the old railroad tunnel, I move through my discomfort- continuing in faith toward the Light.
What are other boundaries we need to keep our humanness "real",
to be "found", not lost?
I love the saying, "Don't doubt in the dark what was revealed in the light." Riding into the light at the beginning of the tunnel and seeing the light at the other end told me that the tunnel continued safely through. The floor didn't disappear in the center. The walls were still safely there and holding up the stone ceiling. But the utter darkness removed the signals I rely on to understand my world.
I had to trust.
I've been in other types of darkness. I've lost my moorings and the old reliable symbols of safety in my world. I've struggled with anger and wondered where the Transforming God was in all my frustration. I've wandered in the darkness of depression and wondered where the Comforting God was. I have held my precious child gasping for breath in the throes of asthma and I've sat at the deathbed of my beloved husband shuddering in the last breaths of life. Where is the Healing God in that void?
I didn't always trust what I knew was true. My intellect only went so far to keep me grounded. The bike ride through the void was only seconds long. It is much harder to remain in the darkness of disorientation when it lasts weeks, months or years.
At the time I didn't comprehend the Light at the other end of my emotional darkness. But He was there.
My anger didn't just go away. I discovered the root of fear in my anger. God, who does transform, gently and slowly worked in me. One day I realized I was no longer the angry woman I had been. I was changed.
My years of learning about myself through depression gave me the strength to be gentle with that self when I could have truly fallen off the edge of grief. I learned deep in my spirit, there is always hope and resting in Him will eventually lead back to the light, back to the path.
My child with asthma grew up to be a runner and a man who is mindful of his health and now the health of his own child. He is compassionate and intentional about his body. He has learned the limits of the human frame and, more importantly, the power of God to maintain health or heal to build faith.
And my husband passed into eternity, not easily or sweetly but fighting for every breath just like he fought for esteem and confidence in life. His body could not overcome the Fall, just as none of ours will. But his spirit was healed by the God who is as interested in our spiritual wholeness as we are in our physical health.
Boundaries include more than physical ones. I observe when I'm missing the grounding of solitude or silence or a good night's rest. I chose to be more aware of the visceral responses in my body when I'm confronted or offended. He is teaching me something new and healing my spiritual wounds. And just like riding in the old railroad tunnel, I move through my discomfort- continuing in faith toward the Light.
http://www.blackhillsvisitor.com/featured-articles.html?pid=879&sid=952:Time-Line-of-Black-Hills-Railroads
http://www.rosyinn.com/5600a04.html
really related to this....and the reminder that God keeps working and transforming as we journey through these places. I am in one of those places now, not only caring for dad 24/7,but doing it in the financial uncertainty we were thrust into due to changes beyond our control. . . and wondering at the length of this tunnel. Thank you for this. well written - well done.
ReplyDeleteI love the visual painted with your insight. Could meld into your senses as you told the story.
ReplyDeleteI just bought a bike: not a mountain bike but a cruiser. Inexpensive and a good restart bike for someone who hasn't ridden for over twenty years. Bought grandkids little cruiser and it's fun riding on the gravel road. Love the breeze on my face and the joy of coasting. Look what you started.