evening

Wind blew ever increasingly throughout the day, a cool breeze. At dusk the clouds briskly came in, a moist veil covering the land, mist moving through the valleys. One might find a perfect day in other places, but only perfect for those places. This was a day perfect for this place, mountain weather at its most beautiful, inspiring. Reds and whites mixed as the sun went down, the wind brought with it the smells of a forest alive. Firs are bursting with new growth, fringed in light green shoots. The pines are gone and the rest of the trees thrive. Then there is the oak which was split in half by a falling trunk, barely a tree itself, it had only reached about ten feet. Spreading wide what remains, reconnected by caring hands, it sprouts large green leaves throughout. It is not the fullest of the oaks, but the fact it lives still despite a death blow inspires.

I stayed diligent throughout the day, wading my way through the various tasks, inspired and frustrated variously, seeking only to do what I feel called to do, whether with joy or with discipline.

There is much which comes from releasing that which we hold dear, freeing the soul to embrace the emptiness, holding loosely on that which demands our attention.

It is an art, one which takes time, an art of life which is led and freed by the Spirit, a dance of controlled ecstasy. Free within obedience, the obedience bringing the freedom just as exercise brings strength and endurance.

This requires a transformation of being, more than words, more than acknowledgement of principles. That is the trick. We think just because we adhere to doctrine we understand. This is a long journey, much longer than a sentence spoken. I am only beginning to taste, my eyes are just now opening, after so many years of focus. Only now am I releasing, my heart as much as my actions.

There is peace in releasing, in letting go, in taking this life as it comes moment by moment. Instead of comparing myself to others, I learn to compare myself with my goal, the prize which calls me heavenward in Christ Jesus. That is the only marker, the only canon of my soul. When I finally believe it, then that will be a day of rejoicing.

Now, doubts still abound, my mind seeks and falls. I struggle to slog through the muck and mire, much of which I have myself created. I wade through all of this, hoping to find light, to find maturity, to find hope fulfilled, to find freedom. I cling to obedience, and pray I am listening right.

It seems right.