A FEW YEARS AGO, on a beautiful Kentucky spring day, I went for a walk with a little girl who was three. Her name was Amy. As we walked through the woods together, she ran up to a wildflower.
Showing me small details inside the flower, Amy said, “Look, Jenny, look at that!” Then she found a rock. “Oh, Jenny, look at this!” It looked like an ordinary rock to me, but she reveled in its shape and coloring. Then she ran and pointed to a beautifully detailed piece of tree bark. With a tone of hushed awe and wonder, she looked straight into my eyes and whispered, “Oh, Jenny!”
That walk was one of the greatest gifts anyone has given me. It taught me to stand in awe of Creation. It taught me to let nature provide me with daily sustenance. Because of that walk with a three-year-old girl, my first utterance of the day is now thanks for the trees outside my window and for the birds that awaken me with their singing. And because of that walk with a three-year-old girl, I now often take walks along a nearby creek.
For eight days in a row one fall, I communed with a pair of blue herons. One day, after missing them for a few weeks, I felt drawn to a part of the creek along which I don’t usually walk, and there my heart leapt. Standing stately and still, its gray-blue feathers blending into the trunk of a tree, was one of the herons. I felt blessed to be in the presence of such style and gracefulness.
Sometimes I sit quietly on a rock by the creek. I feel the water rush by. Cares seem to float away as worries find their proper place. My energy rises. Squirrels play and fuss, rustling the leaves. My heart soars. In the water, I see the deep reflection of majestic trees—and realize that Life is all around me. As my own creative spirit begins to flow, I am thankful for Life and Creation.
I thank Amy – and all the other children in my life – for the many lessons they have taught me.