A Walk with Father

I took a walk today at George Rogers Park.  I had a rare moment where both the children were gone from the house and no one was expecting anything from me.  I felt the desire to be alone with Father, without any distractions.

I took my iPod with me, but almost immediately decided against using it. The orchestra of the forest was too compelling to be overridden by human sounds.  The rustle of the leaves in the trees, the chirping of the crickets, the melody of the birds.  I knew exactly where I was going, having traversed these paths many Sunday afternoons with my dad as a child.

The waterfall was less impressive than it was when I was younger, and the paths were safer.  No more trudging through the mud or climbing on fallen trees to cross creek beds, but the feeling of being the only person in the woods was the same.  

As I continued through the forest, I focused on the sensations:  not only the sounds, but the smell of the crisp, autumn air; the crunch of the leaves underfoot; the variety of trees and bushes.  It was so intoxicating that I wanted to increase the tactile input.  I held out my arms and brushed the bark of the trees as I passed, skinning my hands on their rough textures.  Each tree felt different; some were mossy, others peeling, and still more had deep grooves within their bark.

I reached the end of the path unsatisfied.  I turned around, determined to see where I had been from the opposite direction.  I began running down the path, arms outstretched.  I ran into bushes and small trees, feeling their branches whip against my lower legs.  Looking up, I slowed down and walked the path, ogling the light passing through the delicate translucence of the leaves.  Jumping up, I touched branches and leaves just out of reach.  Looking around, I saw a squirrel amidst a pile of shelled walnuts.  I found a wooly worm and a daddy long-legs on the trunk of a tree, and I left the path to go stroke the tiny caterpillar.

Remembering my childhood enthusiasm for this special place, I began wondering how I would have seen things as a child.  What would go through my head?  What would I say?  I imagined the chatter that probably emanated from my mouth:  “Look, Daddy!  Did you see that bird?  Now look!  Those mushrooms look like dinosaur eggs!”

I started talking to Father like that.  Together, we walked the final portion of the path; looking at the tall, twisting trees.  Listening to the cicadas, I imagined where the bugs were while Father had their directions pinpointed all along.  We traipsed through crunchy layers of leaves, swinging our feet wide to make the path visible.  I felt almost as if I were a little girl holding His hand.

Reluctantly, the path again came to the end.  A final walk through a golden field and I was back at my car.  I was given the impression that this hour was a present to me, a stolen moment of time to be a child again.  Carefree, living in the moment, refreshed, forgetting the worries and stress of the past week.  A piece of time returned to me.

“You are worthy, O Lord our God, to receive glory and honor and power.  For you created all things, and they exist because you created what you pleased.”  Revelation 4:11