Kindling Neighborly Connections between People and Nature.

Sunday, November 10, 2019

A Season of Waiting

Yesterday's saunter through fields of snow-covered weeds was an experience in self-reflection.

I know what I want my life to be about...
  • Living into community with wildlife and wild spaces
  • Lending my voice to my wild neighbors
  • Helping others to do these things
  • And that my neighbors might know love because I let Jesus live through me.

I know what I want my life to be about but at times my inspiration is lacking.

Have you been in this place?
  • Knowing what you want your life to be about. 
  • Lacking the inspiration. 
  • Unsure why.
In this life there are seasons of growth, seasons of heavy labor, and there are seasons of waiting. In truth, there is a season for every good thing.

And so, I trust that even when I cannot find the words for this blog, the Spirit of God is present and at work.
When inspiration is lacking...
...maybe its enough to be in the presence of God.
...maybe its enough to be who I am in this moment.
When our hearts overflow with inspiration there is a time to share that inspiration freely.

When inspiration is lacking, there is a time to wait; and in that season of waiting to allow the Spirit of God to minister to a receptive heart through the gift of wild spaces.

The Israelite's season of waiting took them on a 40 year wilderness journey prior to entering the Promised Land.

The prophet Elijah's season of waiting took him on a 40 day walk to Mount Sinai where God met him. I love that part of his story is that during his season of waiting he was ministered to by ravens in the wilderness!

Jesus' season of waiting took him into the wilderness where he was tempted by satan for 40 days.

In our seasons of waiting we are in good company.

Of course, 40 is a symbolic number that constitutes a season of waiting. One person's season of waiting might be a day or two and another person's season of waiting might be several years.

horned lark, a winter visitor to windswept farm fields in PA

In my season of waiting, I chose to escape to the tundra of wide open farm fields of Middle Ridge (7 miles west of Wellsboro, PA), where deceased brown stems of grasses and goldenrod sing to the tune of a brisk north wind which brings with it horned larks and snow buntings. These seasonal visitors from the far north-Canadian tundra pick seeds from the open fields and gather grit from near the roadside where I stand. I am alone, but I am not alone. In this profound solitude I feel welcomed by the calls of the tundra birds, the north wind, and the doe who watches from a distance. I wonder if she has a thought about larks and buntings this time of year...

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