The List

I had a list today, but I put it away. Lynne said that I should. “Get your camera and take that walk,” she said as we chatted on the phone. It seemed too lavish. My husband, after all, was working. And I had important things to do. Some of my chores were even “carry-overs” from Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. But I wasn’t horribly resolute about this list today. And I can say, “Lynne made me do it.” I totally love a good excuse.

So I took a long walk. A leg-stretching, deep sighing, traipsing and meandering kind of stroll. I watched insects in the meadow. Searched for deer and turkey tracks on the soggy forest path. Closed my eyes and breathed intoxicating scents of honeysuckle and wild berry blooms. And I made a different list. Here it is.

1. Fog is quieting. Especially when it is lifting. It shushes my mind so my soul can think.

2. Salmon-pink azalea blooms can survive a thunderstorm. I presumed that this morning’s pouring rain and gusting wind had smooshed them. Delicate beauty is hardier than it seems.

3. The Gerber Daisies are back! Growing right where they were planted last year. In the middle of the weeds I should clear. I guess some things don’t need my fussing and tending to thrive. Or even my faith in their ability to survive the winter. They managed it all without me. I love surprises like that.

4. I haven’t seen the turkeys today, but they left a feather in the meadow below the cottage. I feel pretty sure the turkey hasn't missed it. For him, it is completely replacable. For me, it is a small treasure.

5. There is something very poignant about beautiful things that only last a moment. Like water droplets on blades of grass. We walk on them. The wind blows them away. The sun evaporates them. But sometimes, if we stand very still and look, we can see them before they disappear. And then they are always remembered.

6. I am not really sure which I love more: blackberry blooms or blackberry cobblers. Both, however, grow on sprawling bushes that have intolerable thorns. Several things I truly love are like that.

7. You can’t really predict where bugs are going to land. You definitely have to be watching. If you hate bugs, their landing could be a catastrophe. If you are fascinated by them, their landing is a gift. I am thinking that sometimes the difference between a catastrophe and a gift is simply perspective.

8. I found a four-leafed clover in the yard.

9. I lost a poodle in the field.

10. And she was NOT too happy about being found.

I finished my walk and sat at the computer eating Orange-Almond-Spiced Homemade Granola (a Wendy Cantrell special treat) as I clicked through all the photos I had taken.

Here is my conclusion on the subject of lists:

Lists can be a good thing if they are inspiring and nourishing.
Lists can be a bad thing if they are demanding and stifling.
But lists can be a blessed thing if they bring your heart and your mind to the kind of quiet rest that allows the voice of God to be heard. And believed. And acted upon.

All in all, lists are really just neutral.

But what we do with our lists . . . that, seems to me, to be the thing that defines them.

Psalms 46:10-11
Lesa K. Reid