When through the woods, and forest glades I wander, And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees. When I look down, from lofty mountain grandeur, And see the brook, and feel the gentle breeze. Then sings my soul, my Savior God, to Thee. – How Great Thou Art, Carl Boberg
For many years, my morning routine consisted of runs along a popular parkway near our home. One winter morning, crystals danced on frosty snow and I fell into the rhythm of my breath. It did not feel hard, but steady, legs and lungs working together. Soft feet landed on frozen ground, bare branches reaching up to a quiet sky. The moments that followed seemed suspended in time – sharp, clear, in harmony and at peace.
On the morning of a milestone birthday, I ran with something to prove. But I could not finish without walking and found myself on a dense path that led to a small creek. I remember the exhaustion, feeling absolutely drained. And yet the water called. If I could just manage to climb over a few rocks, I could rest on one, and catch my breath.
Nature has always been my sanctuary, as much as any church, as it is in nature that my soul sings. I can reflect on the greatness that exists in the first green of spring, in the beauty of the falling leaf. I need the woods to wander, the water to soothe, the gentle breeze to revive. In their greatness, I can remember that which is within me, with tremendous gratitude and humility.
The last verse of this beloved hymn continues, “when Christ shall come with shout of acclamation, And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart!” This is the joy I imagine for Doug, and my Dad, and my father-in-law, and for all we have loved and lost. It is humbling in recognition of the gift bestowed across the arc of our lives. We have loved and are loved. From this we came and to this we return. What joy, indeed.
Grief, Reflected 