Creation: It Saves and Soothes Our Souls

 

"There is something to be said about the vastness of the earth, as well as the vastness of the heavens, in reminding us how small we are and how great God's creation is.”   --Aleksandra Layland, author

I’ve never been much of a nature guy, truth be told.

Maybe it’s because I grew up very close to the city, in a neighborhood of modest homes, built right next to and up against, one another. There was some green space but not much. We played whiffle ball on a narrow strip of backyard. A huge asphalt parking lot served as our go to gathering place for biking and kick the can and crab apple fights.

Nature then for me, was experienced at arm’s length.   

As an adult, while many of my friends enthusiastically extolled the joy of camping in the woods and backpacking on the weekends, one of the very first, and only times I ever camped out, I panicked at the first “Beware of Bears” sign. Then, when a nosy porcupine tried to invade my tent at 5 a.m., after a sleepless night on a “sleeping pad” (think micro-thin rubber mat) …. well, I thought that was the last time I’d ever venture into woods. 

A hotel room and hot water and a flush toilet with a door for me, thank you very much.

It’s not that I didn’t love Creation, the wind through the trees on a warm summer afternoon or the crunch of snow underfoot in winter or the technicolor pop of flower blossoms in spring or the crisp temperatures of autumn. I saw these joys and loved how they looked but for most of my life I always viewed the wild as just that, untamed, nice to look at from a distance, but that was it.    

And then the pandemic hit and God’s Creation: it saved me. It still saves me.

Last December, I started taking long walks on a set of trails behind the neighborhood I call home. These well-worn foot paths wind through thick woods and past wetlands, cut through tightly packed stands of pine trees, and take me over a tiny footbridge that spans a gurgling brook.

I walk and I know peace of mind. Peace of soul, especially after a too long day of staring at a computer screen or answering my forty-fifth email or breathing in the sometimes stale air of a shut tight house.

In the dead of our last COVID winter I could have stayed inside all day and all night, alone. But no. Nature called out to me. Gave me sanity in its expansiveness. Helped me to raise my head and look up: at star filled skies. Listen to the chirp, chirp of chipmunks guarding their territory in my backyard. Smell the musky odor of rotting leaves and fallen trees. Heck, I even bought my first pair of hiking boots, that still get a steady work out on my walks. 

The God-given gift of nature, whether in trails in the woods or walks by the water, whether experienced in a city park as the Swan Boats float on by, or in rural meadow exploding in colorful wildflowers: nature reflects the beauty of life, the symphony of God’s Creation playing for all to enjoy. No expensive ticket needed. No special equipment required except maybe a pair of sturdy shoes that can move us through natural space and that don’t pinch our toes.

This is nature. Egalitarian and always inviting. No ticket needed. It cares not for who we are or how we look, the size of our bank account or the diplomas on our wall. Nature and creation remind us of our place in this world, puts us in our place in a way. Humbles us by its size and span. It teaches us that we are finally not above Creation nor the masters of Creation but instead we are Creation in a way, as much a part of the natural world as any beast of the ground or bird of the air.

How easy it is to forget this truth.

Most Americans: we now live in urban areas. We spend inordinate amounts of time locked up in man-made dwellings with the temperature always closely regulated, never too hot or too cold. We are crammed regularly into metal boxes, competing with other metal boxes for space on miles of blacktop. We are so far removed from the earth and seeds and plants that gift us with fresh food. We even witness the convulsions of our planet as it warms up and it burns up and it heats up and we see Creation hurting and are not yet moved enough to save the planet that saves us, every single day.

What’s been most amazing for me to witness is the passage of the seasons in the same natural setting, as I walk in the woods. God somehow turning over Creation and offering never-ending breathtaking transformations. The snow lined trails and bare sparse trees of January give way to the tiny green buds of spring and new life in April leading to the cool shade of the woods in the summer and July, and now finally full circle, all the multi-colored leaves providing a spectacular show in the heart of fall and October.

So, here’s a suggestion.

After you finish reading this, put down your phone or close your computer or set aside your newspaper and then just get outside. Go for a walk. Listen to the birdsong. Feel the crunch of leaves underfoot. Thank the power above all powers that made the beautiful and fragile natural world.

Creation saves us. Thank you, Creator.