in the secret

It's strange how even the most beautiful of external circumstances cannot touch the innermost part of the heart sometimes. How the mind and body can be at war with each other. It seems as if our hearts and our heads speak a different language.

Such mysteries they are to me.

The wind is blowing through the trees...rustling the leaves of the oak and birch, softly rushing through the evergreens and gently tossing the branches of the giant white pine so that the needles dance almost silently above the rest. Soft white clouds are scattered across the giant blue expanse. White caps and the boats tied to the dock are skipping about like newborn calves in the spring. The bright sunshine wraps us all in it's golden cloak. It's so beautiful.

These are the sort of moments that take my breath away. In these places I am filled with hope and a keen sense of God's hand in what I see and feel. And in the overwhelming wonder of it all, I usually find a little extra wonderful that I tuck away for a rainy day. As the drops fall from the gray clouds I close my eyes and revisit the sights and sounds of this, willing myself to remember that all is not lost to the dark. Hope will return.

But, somehow, today I cannot find that peacefullness. The wind does not whisper sweet nothings to my heart. The dancing leaves and pine boughs do not make me laugh with their wild cavortings. The cloak of the sun does not warm my skin. Why does the music of the day fall on my ears as if they are deaf? I grieve the loss of wonder in the moment and the extra gift I cannot find to tuck away. Is it the world around me or my heart that communicates differently?

All is not lost. I am not unaware of the beauty surrounding me and the sweetnes of the lake air. Comforting me in the night is the haunting cry of the loon. In the place of the usual bustle of cars and buildings is the quiet peacefullness of God's remarkable creation. I am exactly where I want to be.

Oh quiet heart, please return to me.