It’s been a while since I wrote a post, dear Reader and Writer Friends. Life keeps happening. The spiritual journey presses on, across craggy, unforgiving mountains with paths cut too near the edge; down through the valleys steeped in shadows and heavy rainfall; alongside the sea, where sun and salt pull at the wings of the soul longing to be free; and by the shady garden path where one can sometimes find an unoccupied bench to sit awhile, inhaling dewy flower-fragrances. —What is the spiritual journey, if not metaphor?
The beach is always the first summer getaway for my husband and me. Now that the children are grown and married, it’s just us…except for the new puppy, Jesse, now five months old (could this be a reason I haven’t written much of late? Indeed.). And so we headed east with our Jesse in tow.
We needed the break. There are a thousand reasons why. You have the same, yourselves. It so happens that this particular destination is in the quietest community we have ever experienced. New, colorful beach homes with impeccably manicured lawns, rustling palms, rippling birdsong on the ever-present stiff breeze —the ocean, making its nearby presence known. Human voices are almost entirely absent here. We marvel at it. Almost eerie but for the incredible sense of peace and intense sunlight that lasts longer than a summer day ought. Outside with Jesse, soaking up the radiant light, the silence, the rejuventating breeze, the word paradise comes to mind over and over. As does a longing for it to never end.
After dinner one evening my husband and I take a drive. I am the driver now; the loss of his eye and his heart condition make him nervous about driving the new car. This is how it is, now. This is how it will be, as long as our journey continues. On this particular evening, we travel to a beach our children enjoyed when they were small. The road meanders through marsh and lakes. As I am the driver, I can’t look at everything. I catch glimpses of big white birds sailing over the water. Egrets. Elegant. White as snow, poetry come to life. We round a bend and I see a whole colony of them, roosting in a tree by at the waterside.
I could not get a picture…even if I had, it would not do justice to the reality, the breathtaking beauty of that colony of big white birds in the deep, dark green tree by the still waters. Again, the word paradise returns to mind, with a fleeting recollection of being a little child in a bathtub singing a song I made up for myself: Bird of paradise, bird of paradise, you’re so pretty and nice…I don’t know what inspired me. Maybe I’d just learned the term “bird of paradise” and loved it for its lyrical feel.
How quickly time passes. One day a child splashing in a tub singing made-up songs, to—poof!—forty years married, splashing in the sunset chapters of life…still savoring the beautiful, all along the journey.
For it is there, it is there, if we but take time to see.
Thank God for the moments of awe and rest that only He can provide.
AI-generated image of egrets roosting in a tree by the water…does not do justice to the real sight.
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With thanks to Karen Eastlund for July’s Spiritual Journey “still waters” theme, and to my fellow SJT writers, who are such good company.
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Fran, your voice jumps out loud and clear in this very relatable post about this post children at home chapter of life appreciating the beauty and wonder of God’s creations from a perspective of love and gratitude. Your reminder to stop and appreciate it all is well taken,
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Thank you for your words, Anita! Deeply appreciated – and many blessings to you.
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I’ve missed reading your posts. This morning as I sip coffee after a long night in the hospital for my grandson’s birth, I am blessed by your walk through still waters. It helped me to stop and feel the awe of it all. At Avery Island near New Iberia, there is a rookery with colonies of egrets and ibis and spoonbills. That is the scene I imagined. I will not likely write today, so please say a prayer of gratitude and peace for our family.
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Dear Margaret! I have missed writing posts. I am always writing in my head, however. I know I don’t have to explain reprioritizing life from time to time…I see that Sam William has entered the world! Speaking of a work of awe: Congratulations, Mamere! I will keep his mom in my prayers, indeed, and you also. God wrap you and keep you all in his loving arms. Again and again the Creator astonishes and provides, does He not? I should love to see your rookery!
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Fran: Thank you for your post… beautiful as always. I’m sorry for the challenges you and your family have faced. I can relate to “this is how it is now.” So quickly the scene changes. Friends, family, our own selves. Each day a new prayer. I wish you joy and beauty and peace along the way.
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Dear Karen – thank you for your always-encouraging words. We are in a state of constant change, are we not? Some gradual. Some not. I love this thought you offer: “Every day a new prayer.” Yes! Every day is a gift, and within it, more gifts. Thank you for this mindfulness. I wish you much joy on your journey also.
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Fran, so many appreciations for making the time in. your busy world, to take us along on your journey to your long-loved coast paradise. Reading about your meander & your reverent awe in seeing the tree feathered with such beauty, I feel Peace. In two years my dear hubby & I will celebrate as you say “40 chapters” & I hope we are able to take a similar ramble. Wishing you a continuing serene & safe 4th of July Weekend.
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Dear Jan – how I appreciate your response! I am delighted to hear from you and to know know that the sense of peace from my “coast paradise” transcends the screen. And: Forty years comes so quickly, does it not? Thank you for your words – a happy & safe 4th to you and yours also, my friend.
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Fran, I sense the peace you are feeling. The quietness gives way to contemplation. God gives us the gift of peace and quiet when our mind and body need it. It is a recharging that helps us continue on life’s journey. Come October, Kathy and I will have shared a 45 year journey. Bob
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Bob, thank you for your always-insightful response. Allow me to wish you and Kathy early congratulations on 45 years! October is a beautiful time for a wedding and yearly anniversary. Mine is actually in August, usually too hot to do much. I’ve thought of Kathy’s health from time to time – I pray that all is going well.
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Fran, I have now read your blog post for the past two days. Each reading opened my eyes to your world and its challenges and blessings. A new puppy-may it become a wonderful addition to your life. I did not know that your husband had an eye problem and that you are the driver. Roles change as we move on in life. Prayers rise for your family and may quiet and moments of awe continue.I cherish our online friendship. May the Lord continue to bless you with the gift of writing (not only for yourself but for all of ryour readers to read).
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Carol, I am slow in replying sometimes – please forgive. Yes, my husband lost an eye in 2015 with a diagnosis of possible ocular melanoma. It was the beginning of a long stretch of health setbacks he (we) would endure. I cherish our online friendship as well – and your prayers. Know that I continue to think of you and your kind, loving, overcoming spirit each day – I am grateful for you!
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You’ve been missed, dear friend. Your words sprinkle gladness in my heart.
“Egrets. Elegant. White as snow, poetry come to life. We round a bend and I see a whole colony of them, roosting in a tree by at the waterside.” What an image, you’re right, no photo can do it justice (but your words do)!
From that child splashing in a bathtub singing a made-up song to splashing in the sunset chapters (not sure you’re really there yet), I love that you’re still savoring the beautiful and sharing it with us.
Your waterfront paradise deserves a rereading of Gift from the Sea, a personal favorite.
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I am still trying to catch up, Ramona – and oh – Gift from the Sea – it’s one of my favorites also. I have a copy on my bookshelf. I think I WILL reread it, before summer ends!
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Wow! What a sight all those herons would be! Sort of one of those moments that make you stop and take a deep breath –the magnificence. I spotted a brilliant-white heron on our trip to Maine this past month. It looked incredibly peaceful, wading in ankle-deep, still water. May you continue to carry that sense of peace with you, Fran.
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