The Serenity of God's Presence in Silence and in all that is Still

I wanted to walk around Beamers while the weather was still kind and the sun still out. There were five or six cars in the parking lot, indicating others might have thought the same. The leaves had fallen, making the forest look undressed. As I stepped out of the car with camera and binoculars around my neck, I was struck by the silence all around; no leaves rustling in the wind, no birds chirping in breeze, no dogs barking, nobody talking. All I heard were my shoes on the gravel and the flapping of my case. Sun spilled into the woods on fallen trees, lying frosted with snow. Boulders alongside the path were white as well. Squirrels could be heard grinding their teeth, packing their nests, but no vulture, or crow or jay was to be seen. Tiny little gypsy moths flittered outside rotting trunks, but for the rest, it seemed as if the forest was tucked into bed. The floor was now blanketed with all kinds of leaves to keep it warm. What stood out in the tall slender trunks of forest were a few evergreens, here and there, as if waiting to be decorated, populated with colored lights. The sun was slowly setting, loosing its power, warmth, impact and strength. I found my step quickening as the breeze began to bite. I walked the entire circuit that afternoon, not once taking out my camera or my binoculars to take a closer look. This day was for listening, to the sounds that were not there, the insects and reptiles that had gone to bed, or the birds that had gone south. It was a day for listening to the silence of the season, for a time of creation’s rest. The forest has gone to sleep now, waiting the winter freeze, only to begin that miraculous cycle of reawakening, rebirth, renewal, and regeneration, in months to come. But now, this is a time of listening, listening to the silence, the stillness, the serenity of God’s presence in all that is.                                                                                                                                      Pastor Sid

Karin Terpstra