The crunch of the gravel underneath my running shoe, echoed across the still, and silent lake. It was cold out, and my nose caught the chill, and I began to sniffle.
It can be kinda unnerving to go out alone in the fog. Since my son Logan works at a Haunted House all the way through the month of October, I’ve become rather acquainted with seeing his ” made up monster faces,” and even though I know it’s still my Logan under there, I still would not welcome any of his faces coming through the fog at me.
In a way, walking through a fog is a bit like taking a walk in the middle of the night. Your senses are heightened, and I found myself looking to my sides, and behind myself, alternately, acutely aware if there was a foreboding, and unrecognizable crunch that I could hear. I really found myself straining to hear all the little things that one might not notice if the misty and opaque air were not present.
The sense of potential dread, and “what ifs” kept crawling its chilling fingers into my brain stem, and I’m quite sure that if somebody had innocently jumped out, and yelled “BOO”, my screams would have echoed off the water for quite some time.
Just to be careful, I began reciting the 23rd psalm to myself, and throughout my walk, would say it again and again, when I found my fear creeping in….
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures: He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul: He leads me in the paths of righteousness for his names’ sake. Even though I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no evil: for you are with me; your rod and your staff comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies: you anoint my head with oil; my cup runs over. Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Psalm 23:1-6
If you are going to memorize a Pslam, I highly recommend this one….it gets the job done.
Possibly my favorite part of the verse is….” My cup runs over…” because I’m just so aware that it does. One can tend to think that a cup running over, only contains the good stuff and the happy go lucky feelings, but I beg to differ.
A cup can run over with the “swamp water of your life,” but in the mix of it all, there is always gratitude to be found. Of course there is a mixed bag of emotions that go hand in hand with your cup, but it’s your cup…..so you decide? Is it going to run over in abundance, or is it going to be gently dripped out carefully and with great care, so that you can make sure that your heart won’t get broken again?
When I visualize a cup running over, I just see abundance…I see love…I see forgiveness..I see joy, and yes I see the pain of my heart flowing out upon the barren earth.
We get to choose…honestly we do. How will our cups run?
This weekend is Canadian Thanksgiving weekend, and my thoughts turn to my Canadian brothers and their families, and my Mum too, along with many, many friends and relatives. For some, this is their first Holiday without a loved one. This is hard…the memories can comfort, and tear you in two….. We are lonely for these that we loved, who are now celebrating the greatest Thanksgiving in the sky with the Lord of all creation….talk about a cup running over…..
I spotted a brilliant Ruby Canadian maple out on the cement, and my heart lept. One does not see a lot of crimson fire colored trees here in Colorado. There are tons of golden yellow aspens, and lots of fir trees of course, but not so much red…. I miss red…it is a passionate, cup running over color…it speaks of blood, life, death, and power too.
In contrast…last weekend I was up in Evergreen. It was a glorious fall couple of days, and it was spent with dear friends riding horses, watching Elk males bugle, and run about on the green golf course protecting their harem.
I sat out on the back porch at my friends lovely mountain home, and just noticed….just kept filling up my cup, and basking in the warmth of the Autumn sunshine.
Gracefully the aspens swayed, and they bent their lanky, spindle like trunks, reaching for the ever elusive glimpse of sunlight and sky.
Mesmeurizing the way the branches just go gently back and forth ever so slightly, and they are hypnotic, and so calming to my heart.
The cool mountain air with the mix of pine and the scent of horses, and hay is intoxicating.
Nature at its purest level can’t help but wrap her gentle arms around a person, and the trees seem to sense the need for the human to breathe, and simply to just collect herself.
In the distance, a tinkling of the wind chimes addds such a cheery accent to this place of respite. Pine needles glow emerald against the deep azure sky, with the pine cones a dark brown contrast, and hidden with promise.
Not too too far from civilization, and yet it feels like enough away to just let it go, let it pour out, and just take a rest for a spell out on the old weathered deck chair..
Cheery yellow pansies dot the porch railing, and a proiliferation of dark orange blooms also make a welcome appearance . There are bees buzzing, or maybe it was wasps flying about but the combined feeling of fall scents and colors are intoxicating to the senses…..The mind can unwind here, and I’m reminded of this stark contrast to the fog…where nothing is clear.
The wonderful thing about being in a fog is that the colors just pop right off the page at you. Where once, the conjoining of color was a subtle experience, and where one can’t see very far ahead, the trees and flowers that one encounters seem to scream their presence, and demand to be noticed.
I’ts as if they are saying, “pick me…look at me…aren’t I just so special?” This is nature on bold display… Perhaps her finest hour, her last hurrah, until she loses all of her glorious leaves, and stands naked and forlorn in the cold winter months.
It makes me sad to picture the trees wanting to wrap their arms about each other to stay warm as the cold winds blow. Blow they will…Some of us just endure the winter, and pray for Spring, however there is a certain sparse majesty that can be found in the silence of the outdoor winter landscape.
All of the seasons seem to demand our attention from their different points of view. They all offer something quite different and unique… There are all of life wrapped up in the seasons. There is life, death, rebirth, new life….and around we go again….
Shall we step into this marvelous carousel that is our cup? Shall be grab onto it, and let it slip out of our hands, and shall be consider, that no matter what lies ahead weather wise……. fog…blue skies..blizzards, hurricanes, tsunamis, scorching heat..,we shall just take It, and drink up our cups, because this is the very essence of our lives…. This is living…
Somewhere in the middle of this fog…there is a blinding light that is trying to etch its way through ……to awaken us…that this place…this spot that we are in..will not last forever. There is HOPE…always…..until there is isn’t, and that happens too…..
The cup will drop from your lifeless fingers, and it will shatter into a million pieces on the floor, and no matter what you try to do, you cannot ever put this cup back together again…..
You will be changed….there will be a new you that will crawl up, and make its presence known…. It’s not necessarily better or worse..its just different… It’s unknown… Loving and losing changes the scenery of our lives…how can it not?….
Jilly Brandon 