Grace on the Road

My brother and my husband are both wonderful photographers. They’ve inspired me to learn a bit about the art of photography. I will likely never develop their level of skill. But it has opened up a whole new world to me, learning to see things through a lens. It brings focus to my vision just as journaling brings focus to my thoughts. I have begun to learn to see a different kind of beauty, often hidden from the casual observer, by intentionally studying the details. Lichen on a rock. Tiny flowers beside a majestic rushing stream. Insects in search of their next meal. Dime-sized patches of moss.

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Today I learned that my iPhone does an amazing job with close-up photography. I discovered details, hidden beauty, I would have missed without the blessing of this tool. How many more details are just waiting to be discovered, springboards to praise of their Creator? How many wondrous gifts has He placed in my path to give me delight?

As we entered the Great Smoky Mountains National Park on our way to Cade’s Cove, I knew we would be in the park for at least a couple of hours. Spring has arrived, but things are only just beginning to bloom. Still, there was incredible, ancient beauty everywhere I looked. I had intended to spend a bit of time taking pictures, but I didn’t even know where to begin. I remembered the theme of this pilgrimage, “Seek, Listen, Surrender”. Overwhelmed, I prayed, “Lord, what do You want me to see?” And I sensed Him saying, “Just enjoy it, my daughter.”

In Song of Songs 2:10-13, Solomon wrote, “My beloved speaks and says to me: ‘Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away, for behold, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land. The fig tree ripens its figs, and the vines are in blossom; they give forth fragrance. Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away.’” Although Solomon was a real king, and it is believed that his bride, the Shunamite lover in the Song, was a real woman, theologians have historically interpreted the Song as a picture of the love of Christ for the Church, and her love for Him. How sweetly He woos us! He calls us to come away and simply delight in Him. I am ready to come away. My soul is hungry. Where will we go? Where will He lead me? “All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware,” said Martin Buber. The road to Cade’s Cove was no exception. Although I had seen pictures, I did not know what waited around each bend in the road. And there were many bends! There was water. Always water. But always different. Rushing white water streams. Still pools full of frogs. Small trickles. And waterfalls. Beautiful, incredible, stunning waterfalls.

The Smokies are known as a temperate rainforest. The life here is lush. The variety is astounding. But none of it could live, never mind thrive, without the water.

In Jeremiah, the Lord identifies Himself as “the fountain of living waters”. He is the source of our very life. He sustains us, and plans to do so forever. John saw in his Revelation what the future holds for those who belong to Christ. “For the Lamb in the midst of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of living water, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” (Revelation 7:17). The psalmist exulted in this God, and called even the earth to worship Him. “Tremble, O earth, at the presence of the Lord, at the presence of the God of Jacob, who turns the rock into a pool of water, the flint into a spring of water.” (Psalm 114:7-8)

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Many of the waterfalls we saw today seemed to spring right out of the rock. I think waterfalls will always be a reminder to me of the faithful, abundant provision of God. I have been a bit nervous about making this trip. As I have noted before, I am not the best traveler. And some of the roads we plan to travel go through areas that are more sparsely populated than I prefer. But today was a vivid reminder that I need only trust in the never-failing, overflowing provision of my Lord. He who sets the mountain streams in their courses and makes the flowers bloom in rocky places will surely care for me.

Today we bid goodbye to Gatlinburg and returned back home to Versailles. We packed the car and headed out to check out a few more things before we left town. We were in a bit of a silly mood. So we took selfies in front of the Salt and Pepper Shaker Museum. We visited a jelly store and indulged in the samples. (Tomato jam, anyone? Corn cob jelly? Moonshine jelly? They were all surprisingly tasty!) We drove through the artists colony. We had no idea it was so big! We decided we really needed to come back and devote a day to exploring. But we couldn’t resist stopping at a concrete statuary place where John noticed a giant Sasquatch statue. (See him there in the background, under the Loch Ness monster on the roof?)

We had to pull in at the Buy One Pair, Get Two Pairs Free! Boot Store. We tried to have lunch at the tackiest place we could find in Pigeon Forge, but they were just closing as we arrived. So we settled for a buffet with copious wildlife statuary out front and a giant stuffed moose inside. And then we figured we’d better get on down the road.

I fell asleep somewhere just north of Knoxville and woke up as we were nearing Richmond, KY. I went to sleep in the mountains and woke up in the Bluegrass. It was a bit surreal, to be honest. I guess I never really gave much thought to how much the landscape can change in just a short distance.

The last few miles of our drive were through the horse farms on Midway Pike. I said to John that the mountains were lovely, but central Kentucky has its own kind of gentle, pastoral beauty. It was wonderful to visit the mountains, but I am so glad that I get to live in the Bluegrass.

I love what Charles Dickens said about homecoming: “Every traveler has a home of his own, and he learns to appreciate it the more from his wandering.” How true! Tonight I get to drink tea from my own mug. I am writing from my usual spot on our sofa. The normal noises our old house makes as it settles, as the dishwasher runs, as the furnace turns itself on and off are soothing, almost a lullaby. And in a little while I will go to sleep in my own bed, snuggled into the hollows in the mattress my body has made over the years. As Dorothy said in The Wizard of Oz, “There’s no place like home!”

We will set out again in just a few days, but in the meantime, truly I am blessed to be home!

Today is a lull in the journey. I’m at home in Versailles for the next three days. There are some last minute things to do to prepare to be away for six weeks, so it’s not totally quiet. But it’s still a good time to pause and reflect.

The ancient monastics developed a method of prayer and reflection that has been a part of my own Benedictine tradition for more than 1,500 years. It is known as lectio divina, “divine reading” or “sacred reading”. In lectio divina, Scripture or other sacred writing is viewed less as something to be studied and more as a living word. As one reads, one listens “with the ear of the heart”, looking for words or phrases or ideas that stand out, as though God were suggesting topics for conversation. There are four “moments” in the process of lectio divina which may or may not happen in consecutive order. They are lectio (reading), meditatio (reflection), oratio (response), and contemplatio (rest). The process can be as brief as a few minutes or as long as one likes. But there is a general sense that one is in conversation with God.

In The Soul of the Pilgrim, Christine Valters Paintner suggests the practice of Contemplative Photography, a discipline which bears a great deal of resemblance to lectio divina. Go for a short walk, she instructs, with camera or phone in hand. Go without a specific destination in mind, and without intent to photograph any particular thing. Just ask the Lord to direct your feet and to show you what He wants you to notice. Notice what you notice. Look for what “shimmers”. Then take pictures of those things. When you return, choose one of those pictures and spend some time in visio divina, which is essentially lectio divina with images rather than words. (And, as my friend Tom says, if the Lord leads you into a little napio divina, that’s okay, too!)

Yesterday I went for a brief (very brief!) walk into our front yard with my iPhone in hand. My only “task” was to “read” whatever God put in my path. So this was basically the lectio (or visio) part of this practice. One of the things I noticed was an unusually shaped dead leaf on the ground. It was perhaps an inch long.

Both the colors and the way it was curled caught my eye. So I snapped a quick couple of shots.

Today I’m taking time to look more closely, to engage in meditatio, reflecting. I’m asking the Lord, what do You want me to see?

I’m noticing many things, such as the way the leaf is curled. What made it curl that way? Why is it that unusual bluish color? What species is it? I’m noticing the abundance of moss and the varieties of grasses. I’m noticing the bark chips (This is not a mulched area.) and the stick. And the darkness of the mud pushed up by insect activity. There’s a tiny little broadleaf plant popping up next to the dead leaf. In fact, there’s lots of dead stuff that was once alive. It is becoming the rich dirt out of which all the fresh green living stuff is growing.

What is God saying to me in what I am observing? What does He want me to receive from Him? What comes to mind is all those who have gone before me. They were once living men and women, walking the earth in bodies of flesh and blood, just as I am today. They were created and nurtured by God. And then they died. But they have left behind a rich heritage, in their writings and by the example of their lives, by what they created and in the lives of those they influenced. And by this legacy I am nourished. I grow. I become the new green springing up, full of life. It is one of the ways the Spirit works in the body of Christ to nourish us.

In the photograph I notice that there are many forms of life represented. Moss, grasses, small plants and large trees, even insects are all present. Just as these are all different but all living, there are others who are part of God’s new creation who are not like me. Sometimes I think we may even be different species! But we were all deliberately and specifically and meticulously crafted by God. We are all of inestimable worth in His sight. How well do I love all of these who are so dear to our Creator?

And so now I need to take time to respond (oratio) to our good God. I need to ask Him to help me to appreciate and value all that He has made, both those who have gone before and are now part of that great cloud of witnesses of Hebrews 12, and those with whom I interact day to day. I want to ask Him what He wants me to be and to do so that what I leave behind nourishes those who come after me.

And then I will spend some time just resting (contemplatio) in what He has shown me, in His goodness, and in the way He cares for all that He has made.

I hope my sharing of this reflection has blessed you. I want to encourage you to give it a try yourself. You never know what our Father may want to speak to your soul if you will listen with the ear of your heart.