The siren pull of a June day
My chiropractor set me up for this. “Too much sitting at the computer stresses your back and legs and irritates all the nerves connected with them.”
I already know that. But I’m a writer and when I get involved in the creative processing of words and thoughts, I ignore the time. Before I realize it, hours have gone by. And yes, I do hurt.
“So set a kitchen timer and just get up and MOVE every hour. Return to your writing renewed.”
“Okay, I’ll give it a try.” It took awhile because often I ignored the irritating jangle-buzz that startled me and kept on writing. But I am learning (haven’t totally succeeded yet) and now head for the door with my sunglasses and cell phone. (The latter at the insistence of my sons who are always warning me about breaking a hip!)
It is not a forced march—the siren pull of balmy June with the warm, affectionate sun kissing my cheek, the gentle wind ruffling my hair, the intoxicating fragrance first of honeysuckle, then sprouting pine, then peonies, then lilac then roses—overwhelming! Lord, I notice! I notice and appreciate the seasonal cycle You created from the beginning that continues to nourish me in my season of life and in my generation!
As a teenager I memorized the poem of James Russell Lowell, “What is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days. Then heaven tries earth if it be in tune and over it softly her warm ear lays.” What a sensory experience! The words moved me as a child and I can embrace and encore the feeling even now as a great grandmother. Why not?
As a child I soaked myself deliciously in the release and relief of summer vacation from school. The lazy, hazy, days when there was nothing I had to do, nowhere I had to go. I understood the true meaning of leisure. Bored was not in my vocabulary. With neighborhood children I always found more than enough to occupy each day. Even hiking in the woods and taking along sandwiches and a bottle of “pop” for an impromptu picnic by a bubbling stream was permitted and safe. We brought home tadpoles to watch the frog cycle progress. And at night there were “lightning bugs” to catch on the lawn and put into jars while grownups gathered on the porch with neighbors to cool off.
I can experience that feeling again in bite size pieces when my kitchen timer goes off. I wear a pedometer and in my measured mile I can condense some of the sensory delights of my childhood. I am still alive and my Creator, Savior, Redeemer, Provider, Sustainer, who holds my breath in His hands, is within me, beside me, going before me, drawing me ever closer to Himself. Moreover, He has my back.
THERE GOES THE BUZZER! WON’T YOU COME WALK WITH ME? After the so-rarity of June comes the heat of high July and with it even more to notice of God’s creation and more to bless God for!