Rooted and Grounded

I remember when I first began to believe I didn't enjoy being outside.

When I was a child, the first thing I did when I woke up was to go outside and the last place I was before I went to bed was outside. My memories may be hazy and cut to what I want to remember, but ask my mum. She'll tell you we were outside a lot, especially during the summer months. I had a connection to the land, trees, and sky. I was the closest to God then. I was pure tomboy, hair in a tangle and arms and legs scratched and dirty from running through the brush and broom grass; the happiest I could be.

Even then, God in nature was my muse. When I started to write poetry I wrote almost exclusively about nature in relation to me and what I observed.

In my youth years, I rebeled against the outdoors, against what I heard about. Hiking, biking, walking--long, rhythmic steps--swimming. I did not like any of those activities and I started to stay inside, covering up against my soul food and breath.

Now, I understand what it was about that that I despised--the activity; the athletic movement. I wonder how I failed to see how alive I felt when I went to Nature on my terms. Rambling walks, slow intake, expression into words once again; fruit of the ground and tree and stalk and sky filling me; sitting with my face full into the warmth of the sun.

I was not meant for brisk activity. I was meant to inhale in conscious meditation; to be in this gentle and honest land with an attentive, intentional step.

This afternoon I told my husband I was rotting and he said, Go outside.

I went outside. I sat on a red blanket in the green grass next to the evergreen tree. I opened myself to the wind and sun. I wrote, read, and reached inside the awareness of my body to feel the beating of my heart. I was only out there for a little over an hour, but when I went inside I was no longer decomposing.

I am so thankful that eggs have protein. I am not a big meat eater--not counting the raw fishes--but I still need protein. Therefore--gestures--eggs. They are little miracles. I had a wonderful toast after I came inside. Sourdough, pesto spread, tomatoes, fried egg with a runny yolk, and mozzarella cheese.

See, good food without having to work with meat.

This month was a good month. I went to Florida for the first time in my life. I'm not counting Orlando airport in that. Water, sand, sky. It was luscious.

I'm still working twice a week in the sandwich/deli department at Yoder's and Nick is still in the appliance harum-scarum. I got sunflowers for Valentine's and they have a home on the china cabinet. I am cheered every time I see them.

Yesterday evening, I made my husband's heart and home food for the first time--Brazilian rice and beans with ground beef. I love Brazilian food. Has anyone experienced hiraeth through food? I have with this.

Then, we toodled off to the gym. That was a new experience for me and a sensory overload. Thankfully, Nick doesn't mind being used to self-regulate and today I am feeling achey in my arms and back.

This evening we have supper plans and Nick will be home in five minutes.

Be rooted and grounded in love so you can understand and share the depth of Christ's love and be filled with the fulness of God.