Sanctuary Found
It's an August morning in Georgia and my skin is sticky within moments of setting foot outdoors. Deer flies, which have lately left me alone, make up for it by leaving three welts on one arm within minutes. Still I persevere.
Again I startle the same heron and egret as they wade through the tall green grass. Carefully I duck under webs where sleeping spiders wait. Dragon flies land in my hair. Large fish stuck in receding marshy ponds take no notice of me as I stare down at them. Clams, as big as my hand, slowly withdraw into their shells, when I reach down into the cool water to pick them up. I feel like a wood sprite.
I usually have my Bible in the car with me when I go out to the woods. I also listen to Christian radio while I’m driving out there. The woods are my haven, my sanctuary, my heaven.
The fella on the radio is saying that in Psalms 84 the writer wants to be with God so much that he is jealous of the birds that nest in the roof of the church. I can understand that.
Sometimes when I'm on a spiritual high I don't want to go out in to the ugly world when I've been bathing in God's beauty.
Other times when I just can't take the world any more I long to go home to the father who will hold me in his loving arms and keep all sorrows away.
I understand wanting to go to God now and stay with him forever .
