Outsides bleached by the sun,
insides shattered and exposed, firey ochre and amber,
limbs strewn on the ground
lifeless and sharp
debris from a storm long ago
and from a harsh axe.
My view is dominated immediately infront of me
by the dead wood and bare ground.
Just as my mind and heart
can focus on what’s lost
and what I don’t yet have.
I sink my weight into the solidness
of the tree at my back
I look to my side
to see intricate layers of patterned bark
and a tiny fragile ant
scaling the impossible landscape.
I lift my eyes
to watch an agile, fearless squirrel
scamper in high branches.
Lift my eyes further
to the towering mountain
above the canopy.
Dramatic craggy surfaces of majestic proportion.
Hurrying clouds skimming it’s summits.
Bright sun on the far slopes.
In the same way
I’m reminded to notice the good
that’s not always in my immediate sight,
to lift my eyes
to notice the blessings
of what I do have.
In this moment.
Being present to gratitude.
Generosity and kindness
of my Heavenly Father
in a myriad of ways
that sometimes escape my immediate line of vision
but take intention to see and give thanks.
I’ve been learning it’s good and right
to acknowledge the dead wood and the bare ground,
to be honest and vulnerable with ourselves, God and others.
To grieve loss.
But ultimately not to let it dominate the view
and distract from the mountain.
Gratitude is always an option
even in the midst of loss.
Copyright Hilary Murdoch 2015