windows.

there were two chairs, one on each side of a small, round table. and i opted for the one to my right, seeing this option would allow to me to look out the window too. which i like to do quite a bit.i tried to read, i was on the last chapter but his comparison of christ and the church to romeo and juliet just wasn't doing it for me. disappointing, it being the final chapter and all. but it had hard competition. a little girl, her mother, and her grandmother had come in. while they waited for their drinks, the mom gently held the fingers of her tiny daughter- who therefore twirled around in circles, consistently delighted each time her mom smiled and asked "oh my, are you a ballerina??". each time she twirled around she began to catch my eye and grin, we all laughed together when she finally dizzily drifted out of motion and her mom had to scoop her back up into her arms to keep her from bumping into things as she walked. she was a good mom. she exuded warmth. and i noticed that the socks that peeped out from her jeans didn't match...i think that's the sign of a mom. that and the glittery scrunchy on her wrist, which i suspect was not her own accessory.i watched the three of them leave and thought about it for a long while, thankful to be near a window.

that afternoon i drove around with the heat on and the windows down. i like the windows down, more than i like being warm. but i also like the feeling of breaking the rules when i treat myself to both.i drove this way to winslow park, or at least that's what the sign said. it was the perfect combincation of beack and trees, and i chose beach first. having ordered my sandwich to go, i was soon happily sitting on the dock with a brown paper bag, a bottle of water, and my camera.and i sat for a long while.i was soon joined by a father and his two sons. they walked by me, down to the end of the dock and into the rocks; it was low tide. he was the kind of dad that seemed content to listen to their commentary, only occasionally offering a precautionary warning as they neared slippery rocks. although, he did correct the eldest's notion that a clam's age could be told by the number of marks it had. his son predicted his find to be the ripr, old age of anout a hundred years. his dad suggested that "stuffers" the clam was a year and a half at best. although, to my dismay he didn't explain to them how he knew this.i sat and looked out at the water and listened to them for a while. when i left to walk into the park, i passed him lying on the dock in the sun, with his hat over his face and his hands folded over his chest. meanwhile his two sons crawled around the dry rocks, continuing their educated conversations amongst themselves, occasionally including him in their conjectures.

i got cold after a while, so driving back into town to head to my final destination i stopped for tea, which i brought with me into the woods. you see, as i had sat on the dock, i thought about how being outside is such an easy way to find God. perhaps it sounds cliche, and perhaps it is. but it's true. the leaves were a perfect ochre yellow, the reflection on the water made mirrors look like the man made fabrications that they are, and the only thing i could hear was the sound of the trees. it reminded me of the first time i fell in love with the outdoors. i was sitting outside outside our house in an adirondack chair, and i just listened. since then, i can't not listen if given the opportunity.so while i sat on the dock and walked in the woods, i thought about this. this gift that is the manifestation of the God i strive to serve. this ability to find HIm in the quiet existence of His creation. it's like walking around someone's home, and after seeing how they choose to live, they seem to make more sense to you. and then even if they're not there in the home, you feel as though you are with them nonetheless. it's like that. i thought about how easy it seemed to be to find him when life was quieted down and what surrounded you was what He chose to surround Himself with. having also given considerable thought to the christian church, i was content to find that He seemed so much more here then inside the walls we so often seek to find Him in.so when i turned a corner on the path to see two branches bent across like a catherdral window, i could only stop and marvel. i laughed too, but there was no one to hear me, not that i minded.