New Report on Captain Michael Scott Speicher
What stands out are all the places of God's glory.
One of the last was in North Carolina south of Greensboro near (don't laugh here) Liberty, where my home was nestled on a lovely wooded lot in the country.
From there to one small town was a seven-mile stretch of rolling terrain that was identified in my mind with All Things Lovely from a lifetime.
That drive connected me in a powerful way with appreciation and peace of mind.
There is a back road that is my haven when I am in need of a lift of spirit and feast for eyes and soul. This one winds from my home toward a tiny town named Ramseur through an especially beautiful section of country dotted with farmlands and woods and sweeping valleys and foothills.
In all seasons it provides exhilaration and a special joy, but autumn is surely my favorite for viewing. I identify strongly with this season, although the others draw me, too.
Spring is hope and expectation - summer is the gathering and tasting of knowledge and experience - and autumn is the blend of all that, culminating with maturation and true richness.
Winter? Time to rest and reflect and look forward to a new beginning.
I am keenly aware of God's handiwork, appreciating every minute detail, drinking in light and shadow and shape. There is not just the October blue sky strewn with woolly clouds and colored leaves whose splendor takes your breath away.... there is the slope that draws your gaze from its emerald gown to the adjacent freshly turned field.... red soil with 'stubbled beard,' remnants of last month's corn crop.... a pond with unexpectedly vivid green algaed crust, dinner host to a white heron.... among the riotous golds and bronzes and yellows and red, God whimsically scatters a 25-yard stretch of lavender wildflowers beside the road.... just to see if anyone will notice?
Fence posts march like weary, resolute sentries, keeping order between hayfields and roadsides, sagging here and there. Trees which were the first to yield their raiments to autumn stretch their bare arms upward in worshipful gestures.... they are content in their barrennnes knowing that in Spring theirs will be the first burst of leaf to herald new life!
Obscured in a clutch of overgrown brush and trees is an abandoned old shed. I see not the grayed timber and lack of purpose, but how it was when first fashioned by a farmer who gloried in its creation, board by board. (Another case of identity, most assuredly.... my framework no longer functioning so well as 30 years ago, nor is as comely - but the imprint of better days and usefulness is there, and I hope observers notice that.)
Around the next bend is a new home being woven into the tapestry. My mind veers from the farmer (how did he look and act and feel?), long gone, to the next generation building memories on a foundation of hope.... another layer of life upon the land.
I feel them all.... there is something wonderfully profound and comforting in that particular drive, and I return as often as the need is there to find peace and joy and a sense of being closer to Him... and to offer Thanks.
Such places are in your heart wherever you go - wherever you are.
Home is the place where, when you go there, they have to take you in.
I have a special place that I go to to exalt in the wonders of the world. It is a little park in the town where I grew up in Western New York. There is a special spot there that offers a tremendous view of the surrounding hills and valleys. It has a marker honoring a man who wrote a hymm entitled "For the Beauty of the Earth"...supposedly he wrote the hymm after visiting the site of the marker. Have not been there physically for years but go there often "In My Heart and Dreams"...Thanks for helping me recall that special place today.
