Walking out of Kroger this afternoon an invitation was issued to me. Back in July the dozen or so crepe myrtles were bouquets of pink blossoms. Lush, yet stately and formal with nary a droop even in the heat. True Southern ladies, I suppose. Today they were bobbing heads of cranberry-colored leaves bobbing and nodding in the wind. Come play! Come see!
On windy days I walked home from Cherokee Elementary the back way. Across the blacktop, into the little valley, past the swings and seesaw, and up the hill. Climbing the gentle slope, I reached the crest and the open land between back yards and the tree line. The grass there was only cut a few times during the summer so it was long and plush. Open, high land let the wind push back and forth with abandon. The grass undulated like a green ocean and the tree line danced as if putting on a show for God. A show which enthralled and lifted my soul. The wind rushed by me and around me and through me.
Is it the idea of things moving without a visible reason that makes me associate the wind with God? The power. The quiet. The roar. The whisper. I'm not sure, but I know a breezy day speaks to me and reminds me to look up - to watch clouds rushing, trees bending, birds soaring. I can't resist stepping into the wind and opening my heart and senses.
Do you think God might use the trees, the rushing clouds, the swaying grasses, and those falling leaves to invite us to come play with him? To come talk with him? To come just be with him? Seriously – do you think God would be inside on a day like today?