A walk in the book of Creation

Yesterday I walked through the woods on our property, as I once did far more frequently. The old trails were harder to find, choked with underbrush and blocked by fallen trees. It was easier during my husband's illness to withdraw -- physically into the house and emotionally into worry and fear.

Now, taking the walk seemed a daring act, a venture into the unexpected.

But what I found was familiar: the rich, heady scent of soil, the sight of wind tickling leaves that fell laughing to the ground, the cool touch of boulders older than history. Ghosts of past joys lingered in well-remembered places: the steep hill we careened down after a snowfall, the clearing where my husband once built a sweat lodge, the rock where I sat and dreamed of new directions. The seven-trunked tree that had been mostly dead was now entirely dead, yet filled with life; a variety of creatures called it home.

One remembered sound was missing -- the creek's song was silent. The long drought has reduced its usual flow to a trickle. I stood a long time looking at what it had become.

The Celtic Christian tradition held that God revealed himself in two books: the book of Scripture and the book of Creation. That nature speaks of the sacred if we are willing to enter it with eyes and ears and hearts open.

What nature told me on this walk was that, like the creek, I was dry and thirsty. I needed to return to these paths, open this book, experience its wild truth.

What have you found in the book of Creation?