I’d been working for a few days on an idea for this blog. It would develop to a certain point, then freeze. No progress. So, stuck, I pulled out one of my favorite poetry books to see if I could find a different path to follow.
After browsing a while, it struck me that many of the poems were about something small and ordinary – a broken vase, tea in a cup, the bark of a tree. I’d been trying to write about something big and nebulous (about the mystery of God), but meandering through the thoughts of poets, it struck me that mystery isn’t always big and nebulous. Sometimes it’s tiny and right in front of my eyes. The bark of a tree, for example.
I’ve always been enamored by tree bark, its patterns, textures, and function. I love the grooves and ridges, so different from tree to tree, yet each in its own way, protecting the life hidden underneath. I have a wonderful, vivid memory of my dad, away on a fishing trip in the Michigan woods, writing me a letter on the bark of a birch tree.
We can take similar mind journeys with anything around us – that broken analog clock that is still right two times a day; the crowded bookcase that holds promise of so much interest if we get around to it; the junk drawer whose odds and ends each tell its own story of where it was and where it could go.
We are always surrounded by stories, questions, memories, and possibilities. Do we ever pause long enough to consider any of them? It strikes me that all of this is part of the great mystery of living day to day. If we let it, each part of this mélange can lead us deeper into the ultimate Mystery. I started this blog trying to reflect on that Mystery of God, but my thoughts eventually led me to realize that the little, inconspicuous parts of my life can be tiny observation platforms into God’s creative gifts of love. As we approach Valentine’s Day, try letting some of these puzzling or strange or delightful occurrences of the day become a telescope or microscope into some aspect of the loving God who always enfolds us.
