As Lovely As

Of course, it’s not really a forest.

However, when my imagination is ungirdled, I think of it that way. Each morning it is the first thing I see when my eyes open.

Then I remember gazing out a different bedroom window at an aging blue spruce towering on another front lawn.. I recall my concern about it’s longevity and fearing its instability when the inevitable winter storms circled our corner.

The massive tree I now view seems sturdier, yet probably older. It has become my inspiration each day I view it. Not because of its size, or magnificent color, but rather because of its flexibible accommodation to each season, and therein lies its lesson. There is never hesitation when the wind grows cold, and it is time for the lingering leaves to gently float to the earth.

Last week I visited a lovely shop resplendent with all the cooking tools I reluctantly abandoned. Each one I viewed resurrected a different emotion. The wire whisk reminded me of whipping egg whites for an Easter meringue; the tiny spatulas brought back the ease of lifting minute butter cookies at Christmas with the two pink ones I left huddled in a kitchen drawer when the moving truck circled the corner.

For a brief moment, I questioned why I had relinquished so many treasures, and experienced a sharp pang of regret for my frivolous decision.

Then I remembered the tree I had viewed that morning from the bedroom window. Earlier in the week it had blossomed with a canvas of color; a palate far too spectacular to describe but resplendent in a triumph of nature’s unique beauty. Today after the brief, but early frost dusting of white that awoke me yesterday, the intense colors have dimmed and their number has diminished.

And thus is the lesson of life. I left the luxury of kitchen tools that were no longer part of my tomorrow. They were vital, but only for a precise span of my life. I need other things now to accommodate the approaching season. No longer will my life require the comforting blanket of yesterdays. Rather like the view from my window, today my needs must accommodate the changing time I have remaining. It is now time to permit any mistakes and unfulfilled hopes of yesteryear to waft gently away, and focus only on God’s blessings.

The words of the first poem I learned return to mind, and without warning I finally understand the emotions that provoked Joyce Kilmer to put his pen to paper.

Everyday provides another lesson and I only need to look out a window to find it. I must remember to do that whenever a foolish regret emerges.