All is quiet this morning in the forest and meadow surrounding the cabin. A gentle breath of wind shushes through the meadow grasses and whispers through the pine branches.

Pinks and orangey yellow streaks are breaking just above the treetops announcing that the sun is on its way. Nature’s alarm clock. Soon the morning creatures will stir, scout, and begin their breakfast journeys.

Warming pine and that distinctive mountain scent wafts and swirls in the chill morning air, reminding me of long-ago summer mornings at a favorite campground in the mountains. I can see, hear, and smell it all in my mind – the bossy scrub jays shouting and squawking as they flit from tree to tree, cocking an alert black eye at the wooden table in case some of the breakfast fixings tumble off. The smokey scent of the testy, cold campfire that fights to get going again in the morning, reminds me of my dad who would mess with it until it was hot and roaring, so we could toast crescent rolls on a stick over the fire.

My steamy coffee warms my chilled hands, as I sit on the deck overlooking the drowsy meadow. The sun is higher now and beautiful streaks of sunlight boldly push through the tree branches. The rays of light are ethereal and sacred; the Creator at work bringing beauty to the morning. The way the light beams fall on the meadow and through the trees reminds me of times spent hiking – just He and I – where hurts and wounds were poured out in raw honesty as Truth and Healing flooded in to soothe, heal, and mend what was broken. Divine encounters.

Breakfast accompanies me to the deck. The homey scent of pancakes, bacon, and coffee mingling with the scent of pine, sparks a memory of my grandma making breakfast on a Saturday morning. The scent of pine trees was always present and is a treasured undercurrent to my memories of her. How happy and exciting it felt to be in her home, surrounded by woods, good food and the squirrels’ feet pattering across the roof. Safe. Home. Content.

The sun is making its way across the sky, so it’s time for a hike to the lake to see who is stirring and fussing about this morning. Always an adventure!

The strewn pine needles are soft and comfy underfoot. Cracks and twig-snaps along the edges of the trail accompany me as I make my way along the well-worn path.  The rustling and murmurs of the woods is comforting and peaceful. Nature is quiet, but it’s not. Calm and restful, yet busy and purposeful as birds and watchful animals go about their business.

The lake will peek into view around this next bend in the path. The familiarity invites a feeling of nostalgia – wistful happiness with a tinge melancholy that doesn’t want to be overlooked and dismissed – wishing that time would stop so the safety and peace of the memories would live on and on, drowning out the stress, noise and unknown of what’s ahead.

There it is – the lake! Life is in full swing here with ducks and geese gliding along the smooth water, snipping at bugs, and nibbling on grasses along the shore. Their contented chuckles and fussing drift over the water as they chat over their breakfast.

A creature rambling through the reeds searching for a snack makes slippery, muddy sounds along the bank near an ancient tree. A long-abandoned rope swing, frayed, tattered and limp tosses meekly in the light breeze that’s beginning to ruffle the water.

Sitting under the shady branches with the fishy, watery scent of the lake breeze fluffing my hair, I recall the excitement of fishing at another lake in the mountains with my grandpa. The careful choosing of bait, adding the weights and a bright red bobber. Time seemed to slow as the line was cast, reeled, and repeated over the course of a warm summer afternoon – the same breeze with an earthy, fishy lake water scent keeping the worst of the heat at bay. The memory of it makes me smile.

Feeling dozy, I lie back on the blanket I brought and close my eyes for a spell. The earthiness of the lake combined with the close warmth of the afternoon fills my mind with much needed peace and I nap for a bit, letting childhood memories of cloud watching and camping take me away.

Startled awake by the fussy chatter of a grey squirrel in the branches above, I stretch, gather up my things and head back to the cabin. What a beautiful way to spend a lazy afternoon. Looking to the sky, I see the sun beginning to make its descent.

Relaxing on the deck after a quick dinner of grilled chicken and homemade potato salad, I sip a lovely cup of herbal tea as the sun showcases it final burst of color before setting behind the treetops.

The forest and meadow quiet into evening and the first pinprick of stars make their appearance. As the night gentles and cools, I grab an old quilt off the chair. It feels safe to be wrapped up and warm this chilly evening. There are unknowns, mysteries and strange sounds that move around me in the now dark forest, but I don’t feel afraid. Gazing up at the stars, a familiar feeling of being deeply loved washes over me. You created these stars and heavenly bodies, placing them just so in the night sky – giving direction to the weary traveler and bringing light to one who feels lost. When I felt tiny and insignificant in a vast sea of humanity, You reached out to me with lovely bursts of light breaking through the darkness and spoke to my soul of hope, purpose, and safety. You still see me. The lovely carpet of stars in the dark night sky continues to speak of love, peace, and warmth on the quiet deck of a cabin in the woods. Beautiful memories of healing, redemption and above all, hope.