Monday, July 21, 2014

Green


He maketh me to lie down in green pastures,
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul.
Psalm 23: 2-3

My back conforms to the canvas chair - striped green and white like an awning - like garden-party favors - as I rock back and forth, catching the morning breeze.   I am still surprised by the green - I who spent years in the deserts of Arizona living with volcanic rock and cactus, painted-pebble yards and cinder block walls.  Even the name sounds dry and sere.

I am mesmerized by the color green.  Variety of hues indescribable, too many to catalog.  These shades are not labeled in jumbo crayon boxes, prismacolor pencils, acrylics and oils; they are subtle.  Startling.
Cool and refreshing.

It calms me, this green.  Makes me feel subtle and cool, like the slip of water over algae-coated rocks in a glassy stream.  Like the inexorable climb of ivy, reaching, clinging, then anchoring.  Like unfolding leaves and shoots of new grass.  Like venerable tree trunks with north-facing velvet cloaks of moss.

It recharges me, this green.  Growing.  Reaching.  Ripening.  I look for it each spring, after winter.  Walking the yard, the neighborhood, camera in hand, lens narrowing my vision, focusing my eye.  The first green.  It is hope.  It is promise.  It is faith.  It is real.

Sitting on the balcony, mesmerized by green - and life goes on.  Not just growing things.  The shadow of a hawk sweeps across the lawn below, fleeting and bold.  Red, red cardinals streak through the canopy of leaves, and stop to pose against evergreen-deep limbs of feathery needles, sharp and soft.  Contrast.

Life goes on.  Sitting on the balcony, rocking, my mother tells me about her plans for the day.  She is one-thousand miles distant yet close as the words we share.  The lives we share.  Daily.  I remember the days when a phone call was anchored to the wall.  I remember writing letters and waiting.  I remember libraries and card catalogues.  But life goes on and I gladly use this technology that keeps me close to those I love.  Contrast.

Life goes on and my husband works.  Away and busy, purposeful.  Life goes on and airplanes careen from the sky, rockets flare across desert cities, children ride busses to temporary homes, soldiers watch while families wait, secrets are told, newspapers sold, marriages made, and politics rage.

Life goes on and I am surrounded by green.  I rock back and forth, catching hope in the gentle air, breathing in promise of a new day, held in verdant, growing faith that all will be well.  It is real - life goes on.

Heavenly Father, 
Thank you for reprieve from today's headlines.  Thank you for green.  
Help me to keep your green pastures in my heart as life goes on.  
Help us to find your myriad hues and purpose.  
Help us to live in you.




10 comments:

  1. Wow, what a thought provoking and touching post. I, too, love the color green and rejoice in it's hopeful and encouraging colorful backdrop in my yard.... I feel peaceful with green..... thank you for sharing the nice... and the hard.

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    1. Thank you - yes, and the hard. It seems somewhat bizarre to me to know that in the midst of whatever I may be doing or thinking, the world goes on. Perhaps this is why meditation so often leads to prayer...

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  2. I'm so thankful we're still surrounded by green. I love looking out my window in the summertime and from some angles, seeing nothing but green, green, green. I need the reminder in this day of technology that some things remain the same throughout time.

    A lovely post, Janet.

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    1. Thank you, Lisa. I'm thankful as well, although, I have to say the colors of fall kind of steal my heart - especially since leaves don't change in the desert... Yes, as grateful as I am for technology, I am thankful that some things haven't been changed by it. I'm glad you could visit.

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  3. I love the contrast here, all the ways you stop and notice it - the green and the red cardinal - and the ways it flies past in the course of a day across the miles of the world. It reminds me that there is beauty in the brokenness, in the unfinished places; that there can be hope in the wars and in the poverty and in the separation of loved ones, and yes, right here where we are.

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    1. Thank you, Amber. Contrast gets my attention - it's like seeing God in cracks and edges, and like you say - in the unfinished places. "...And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love." It is in our miles of world in the courses of our days. Isn't it?

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  4. Such a refreshing voice here as you help me see the green around me, too. The hope. The growth. The life. Thank you for linking with Unforced Rhythms.

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    1. If I had to put a color to hope, it would be green - because it refreshes - because it is life. Thank you for visiting and for your encouraging words.

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  5. Ah ... green pastures. How we long for them, yet they are really only to be found "in Him." Thanks for the reminder and for linking up at Mondays @ SoulSurvival. Blessings, Donna

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    1. You're so right - I like that the verse says "He makes me lie down...". Have you ever had those days when it's hard to take a green-pasture breather?? That's when I hear that be-still voice reminding me to stop. And wonder. And relax in him for a moment. Thank you for stopping by.

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I know we probably haven't met in person, but I believe that the sharing of our ideas and thoughts, sometimes our hearts and souls, makes us more than strangers. I would like to say friends. Thank you for taking the time to contribute to my little space - I appreciate you.