The Beauty of Creation

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Safe In The Playground Of God

Squelch, squelch, my training shoes would say as I walked through the wet grass my feet becoming cold and soggy. As I was going about my morning adventure, in the stream. I had wobbled on a rock slipping into the cold water. This burn was one of my favorite places where I like to visit, to see the birds like the Dipper, brown with a distinct white throat patch, which flew from rock to rock bobbing up and down, diving in the ripples to occasionally get a tasty bite. Then the small Wren, so secretive going in and out of the bushes trying to stay hidden, however curious about me, the visitor, taking an occasional peak. She was so vocal, her call ‘tea-kettle tea-kettle’ piercing, but eerily traveling through the morning air. Then there is the Blue Tit a fun little bird, blue and yellow in color, and as if having ants in her pants jumping from branch to branch enjoying bugs.

I also like the wild flowers, like the Primroses making themselves known, squeezing up through the leaves and mosses, the moss looking like a velvet carpet, the Primroses capturing the weak but welcome sun-rays on the pastel yellow petals.

This is how I liked to start the day, the crisp air, the sparkle of light on the dew hanging from spider webs, enjoying the wonders of nature. The sound of the burn that trickled, trickle, bubble, bubbling, the water, was so soothing. I would sit enjoying the sounds of the stream; I also could hear the evidence of the wind, the leaves in the tree limbs rustling as I sit on my hands on top of the smooth, cold, rock to keep my bottom from going numb.

The rock has been polished over the years and seasons, through the dry drought, and the deluge after the winter snows that melt, rushing over the rock leaving this place where I sit. The trees overhang the stream, creating a nature room, shaded from the sun. It has a smell of moisture, fresh, but musty at the same time, of rotting wood giving an earthy smells and of rain on a dry day as it meets the ground.  I reluctantly leave my nature oasis, walking a short distance up a steep incline, then I hop over a stone wall keeping my eyes open for the farmer, who is not a friendly fellow, but the nature room I have fallen in love with is worth the risk, and the farmer adds a little excitement, a little danger to the adventure.

Making my way home, doddering along in a dream, I’m remembering all that I had seen; getting home, I go through the back door, kicking of my wet shoes. The aroma of fried toast, mushrooms, bacon and eggs, and waiting for me next to the food, a steaming cup of sweet milky tea, make my mouth water. I then realize how hungry I truly am. Being out in the fresh air always makes me hungry, and the food always tastes so much better after my morning adventure. Returning to breakfast was just an extra bonus to make the day even more special, the gestures of family welcoming me home.

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The language of the Celtic Culture was of nature, life, freedom, beauty, making use of all the senses that have been given. Life was like my childhood story a great adventure being discovered through life experiences, and visual magnificence found in the symbols found in nature and the wildlife around them.

Through nature having a connection to the divine, enveloped in the creative handiwork of the creator, the artistry, the attention to detail, no wonder the Celtic knot work had such intricate designs, inspired by the God of the Universe, whose detail gave inspiration that is unfathomable at times, from the vast universe to the smallest microbe.

The Celts encountered and discovered nothing new when told who this God was by the missionaries over time, just further insight and a deeper explanation of the Alpha and the Omega. There was an adoption and adaption of the sacred places and spaces that were used by the druids, allow for these people to add another further piece of the puzzle to their already rich spiritual practice. Giving Jesus as the one they were encountering without having known who they had been encountering all along, giving the Trinity of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit as another bridge to explained this being beyond them, of who this great deity to be.

Reminded me of a place of safety as a young adult or tween as it is referred to today, the spot I loved to go to in the countryside, walking a little distance from my childhood home to my oasis, my place of refuge and comfort, not that my childhood home was bad, it was my unknown longing for the creator, a desire for a connection to the God of the universe at that time I did not know, this was the progressive process God used to draw me ever close to Abba, my heavenly father, to be welcomed and embraced as his own.

 

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