Mystery in the Backyard

When my mother first visited our home on South Kanawha, she told someone, “when you sit on the front porch you feel like you are in town, and when you sit in the backyard you feel like you are in the country.”  That’s because our backyard is bumped up against the town’s oldest golf course with its huge seventh-hole fairway and grand trees lining its edges.  It makes for a scenic view and a good place for recollected prayer.  In the winter we sit by the fireplace and gaze off into the corridor of openness watching the gray fog roll in just before dusk and the snow kicking up a storm. 

Today I walk barefooted across the backyard’s mossy area to a nice shady spot along the fence line where we have a sitting area to enjoy the evening.  Once I was sitting in this very spot looking out over the open field when I caught sight of rain three hundred yards in the distance.  Standing up I watched as a wall came sweeping toward me.  Then just as the first big splats began to land, I made a mad dash across the yard into the safety of the basement just as it hit full force.  If I had it to do again, I would stand my ground soaking up the moment and getting soaked to the bone instead.    

Earlier today I visited a local state park with a friend who has a visual impairment.  Someone asked him what he enjoyed about being in the park.  His reply gave me reason for pause.  “Being able to come out and hear the sounds,” he said.  His comment inspires me to make a deliberate attempt to hear the backyard.  Birds are singing…a variety of birds.  A neighbor mows in the distance while cars pass on the town side of the house.  I hear the wind.  Chimes are ringing out from our porch, a deep resonant bell sound.  A million leaves rustle in harmony creating a peaceful creation song. 

I love that feel of a cool crisp wind.  You never know where it’s coming from or where it’s going, but on a hot summer day like today it’s refreshing.  I confess too that I like the wind because of the symbolism it invokes of the mysterious Holy Spirit.  A friend recently told me, “You believe in God the Father; you know what that means…you can put that in a theology book.  You believe in Jesus Christ; you know what that is; you can read the gospels; you know what He did, what He said.  [You] believe in the Holy Spirit; you don’t know what is going to happen next...we are uncomfortable with that.”

I get it.  I get it by what is felt and seen and heard as the wind swoops in unpredictable.  Coming from one direction then another with the power to refresh or uproot.  Enjoyable, but uncontrollable.  A mystery revealed in our backyard.