Sunday Afternoon Tea

"I believe every life has hidden songs that hang

by twin threads of music and memory...  

I believe they run between the rocks

and along the creekbeds of our lives.  

These are songs that cannot be heard by anything but the soul."

Almost Heaven

Chris Fabry

The dishes were washed and drying in the red Rubbermaid drainer.  Saturday's lunch had been leftover homemade chicken soup from Friday night's supper, just what was needed in the damp chill that still hung in the air even though the rain was now in Western Ohio and Pennsylvania.

My soul was heavy... my feelings somewhat melancholic.   As I looked at the autumnal scene outside my kitchen window, I knew what I had to do.   I picked up my keys and my purse, stuffing a book in it to peruse while sipping a tall pumpkin spice latte (yum...).  Hubby was watching the University's football game on TV, he wouldn't miss me.

As I walked to the red van, something made me walk back in the house and pick up the itty bitty iPod from the table... just in case.  For those who do not live in or near a forest during peak colors, all I can say is my mortal body could hardly contain the praise and worship to the One who created all of this as the van made its' way through narrow country roads.

He didn't have to design trees in such a way that they show off the hues of red and gold and chartreuse and yellow as they are ready to fall back to the ground and die.   Just as He didn't have to give us chocolate... or coffee beans and pumpkins.  But He did because that is the way our God is, one who overwhelms in His Love.

When I pulled up to the Starbucks at the edge of town, the scenery had already made my decision easy.  I purchased a pumpkin spice to go and headed for my favorite place.  One I had neglected in the heat and humidity.

The van seemed to know where I wanted to go, happy to pull into the park's lot and finding a plethora of parking places... as it was chilly but I came prepared with a jacket and the itty bitty iPod.  For my walking companions were this and this and that.  Somehow songs such as Poor Sinner Dejected With Fear seemed just right on such a day.  :)

I was home again on the walking path as I passed through the forest and the prairie grasses and the swamp wetlands.  The scents of autumn are my favorites... the musky smell of the leaves returning to the earth (and I am so glad I am not allergic to leaf mold as is the rest of my family), the whiff of something in the air... not unlike my beloved Sweet Annie, another aroma rather clover-ish, the scent of the standing water in the forest, and then the surprising scent of... Christmas!

For amongst the trees looking somewhat like peacocks looking for a mate, there were a few adolescent pine trees which I would never have seen except their Holiday fragrance gave them away.  I stood near the wetland in the forest, breathing in the magic (Narnia magic, of course).

Actually, Narnia was on my mind already as I walked and thought how other worldly autumn days appear, especially when the rain has parted and what is left is a lovely golden light... as if God was showing off His stained glass window of leaves and golden prairie grasses and late autumn wild flowers.

But forests in autumn are not really stained glass windows and the abundance of trees standing stark and structural with no leaves at all reminded me how fleeting is the season.  Choosing to walk the path that afternoon was wise, even if my latte was cooling in the van as I walked.  Next week it will look completely different.

At one point in my walk, I stopped to get a closer view of the wildflowers... rubbing their leaves between my fingers as I was searching for the source of aromas.  I felt sorry for runners passing by at mock speed for their heart muscles were growing strong but not their heart.  How could one not stop and enjoy such abundance of color and scent?

I smiled once again as I admired the wildflowers for just as their cousins in spring, if they were growing in my yard they would be called weeds.  Suddenly it was as if God downloaded Truth to my spirit... are those things in my life I call weeds (trials?) really wildflowers picked lovingly by Him.  I must admit, I could not deny that Truth.

The music which has been the play list of my life this past year continued to play through the ear buds.  For it is the combination of hearing and seeing that makes the magic for me, it always has been when I walked.

Perhaps it is because when walking I don't let anything else distract from the words and the music, especially on this trail when one has no concerns about things with motors.  I wonder if we all have a songbook of our lives made up of songs we hear and heart songs we write as we walk the journey He gives.

I was reminded of the words under the above picture from the first chapter of Chris Fabry's Almost Heaven... and then more words from near the end of the book...

"The Lord gives us all a song to play, and at first we just play it the best we know how and try to work on it and make it better.  Most of the time it sounds awful.  But there comes a point where we realize it's not really our song to begin with, and if we'll follow the lead of the one who wrote the tune in the first place, we'll come out all right."

Isn't that beautiful? 

As I returned to the entrance of the walking path, I sat on my usual park bench and sipped the warm-ish pumpkin spice latte (still yummy).  My soul which had been heavy now had its' burdens lifted as He knew it would... for I am certain it was His still small voice that had me return for the itty bitty iPod.

I expect it was just me who coveted the latte.  :)