I’ve just finished the most extraordinary book – Taking Flight: Inspiration and Techniques to Give Your Creative Spirit Wings, by Kelly Rae Roberts. In one chapter, Kelly speaks of finding the “sacred in the ordinary”. Simple, ordinary moments in life bring that to fruition for me. We all have moments we can look back on, moments that stand out in their dramatic simplicity, moments when life suddenly came into focus.
One such moment for me happened long ago, during the solo portion of a college backpacking trip. On the last hike of our outing, we spaced ourselves an hour or so apart, taking what was expected to be a solitary, meditative journey home on our winding, mountain trail. It was a cold, crisp morning, light snow crunching underfoot as I walked in the footsteps of my preceding companions. It was exceptionally quiet, save the sound of the wind in the trees and my own breathing and contemplative plodding, accompanied by the occasional tinkling of “bear-deterrent” noisemakers tied to my backpack. Being a Florida transplant to this Appalachian domain, I began my solo journey mostly preoccupied with the resident bears, hoping they were all comfortably hibernating. As time passed, and the further I progressed along the trail, I became less and less obsessed with myself. Fears and insecurities gradually became replaced with an awareness of my extraordinarily impressive surroundings.
At one point, as the path took a winding turn, I suddenly stopped still in my tracks. Ahead of me was a straight stretch of trail, lined with young trees. As their snow-laden branches entwined overhead, they formed an unearthly archway, rivaling the most glorious of man-made cathedrals. As I inched toward the arch, I was soon viewing it through tears of wonderment, wondering with each sodden blink if it would all suddenly disappear. As I slowly traveled through that arboreal archway, my life and thoughts came into focus. Hectic schedules and worries of college life soon faded away as I took an eternal moment to worship in that private, winter cathedral.
One such moment for me happened long ago, during the solo portion of a college backpacking trip. On the last hike of our outing, we spaced ourselves an hour or so apart, taking what was expected to be a solitary, meditative journey home on our winding, mountain trail. It was a cold, crisp morning, light snow crunching underfoot as I walked in the footsteps of my preceding companions. It was exceptionally quiet, save the sound of the wind in the trees and my own breathing and contemplative plodding, accompanied by the occasional tinkling of “bear-deterrent” noisemakers tied to my backpack. Being a Florida transplant to this Appalachian domain, I began my solo journey mostly preoccupied with the resident bears, hoping they were all comfortably hibernating. As time passed, and the further I progressed along the trail, I became less and less obsessed with myself. Fears and insecurities gradually became replaced with an awareness of my extraordinarily impressive surroundings.
At one point, as the path took a winding turn, I suddenly stopped still in my tracks. Ahead of me was a straight stretch of trail, lined with young trees. As their snow-laden branches entwined overhead, they formed an unearthly archway, rivaling the most glorious of man-made cathedrals. As I inched toward the arch, I was soon viewing it through tears of wonderment, wondering with each sodden blink if it would all suddenly disappear. As I slowly traveled through that arboreal archway, my life and thoughts came into focus. Hectic schedules and worries of college life soon faded away as I took an eternal moment to worship in that private, winter cathedral.
Although it’s been many years since I’ve hiked those mountainous trails, there are still daily sacred moments to be experienced, if I quiet myself enough to recognize them. Birds and the garden often provide that grounding solace for me. They bring me back to the wonderment of God’s creation, overshadowing the man-made stresses of daily life. They help me put Life into perspective. Where do you find sacred in the ordinary?
1 comment:
I could see and feel the arch... you have such a way with workds!
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