And as I scan the willows for whatever wildlife might be out, I thank the Lord that He has gifted me with such a beautiful place to live. But along with that early morning thanks comes many petitions. So many of my friends and family are going through trials right now - some so difficult my heart can hardly stand it. The complexity and contrast of what makes up a lifetime simply staggers me to my knees in thanks and supplication.
Many people come here as a retreat, to get away from it all. I've even heard it called heaven on earth. There are some things you can retreat from, (cell phone coverage for one) and I know the stunning beauty of this place is a glimpse, albeit a dim glimpse, of what Jesus has prepared for me. But retreating from life isn't an option. The harshness of real life is just as evident here as the small, tottering fawns disappear as prey, fires ravage the forest and the snow collapses, smothering human life and leaving those left to somehow drink or shoot up their pain to a numbing, bearable level. Even surrounded by all this earthly beauty, the brokenness of sin rages on. It would be devastating if I didn't know the outcome.
I am so longing for the day that this beautiful brokenness is made whole again. I know He has a time hidden in His book which only He knows. The brokenness here groans for His full redemption. It will come.
And only because He was broken.
"We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently."