Into the Wind

We are in the grip of a harsh winter’s day.  The thermometer on the back porch registers low twenties with wind whipping through the trees and around corners.  I pull on layer after layer of clothing before stepping out the basement door and facing the bitter cold head on.  My steps sink into virgin snow, trying to reach the ground, stumbling from time to time.  The driving snow pelts my hood sounding like a hard spring rain on a tin roof.  I take out my binoculars and gaze down the meadow and over the rolling hills.  The grayness of a Homer Winslow painting wraps itself around every nook and cranny.  The whistling wind brings the sound of dogs barking in the distance.  I stand quietly soaking in the calmness before turning and heading back home. 

Often our most impressionable moments are made as we adventure into the unpredictable.  The senses come alive.  We gain new perspective.  Our lives and world views expand.  Our roots sink deeper into the Eternal God.  Mexico was this for us as.   The impact was lasting.

When it comes to the impact of an “into the wind” adventure, I think of Bilbo Baggins’ return to the Shire.  “Indeed Bilbo found he had lost more than spoons – he had lost his reputation…I am sorry to say he did not mind.  He was quite content; and the sound of the kettle on the hearth was ever after more musical than it had been even in the quiet days before the Unexpected Party…He took to writing poetry and visiting elves; and though many shook their heads and touched their foreheads and said ‘Poor old Baggins!’ and though few believed any of his tales, he remained very happy to the end of his days, and those were extraordinarily long.”

Michaela is Maria's roommate at Torchbearers