Deeper than I think

Confession: I trespassed today, all bundled in my snow clothes, crunching along the snow-packed road down to walk along the river. I wasn't looking for the elusive moose that lives in the area. I was looking for the chance to stand beside quiet waters that run in the valley near where I am spending these few days. Like the shepherd-poet David, I have come asking that my soul be restored. It has been a quiet day of writing, reading, drifting off to sleep, dreaming, waking, cloud-watching, praying, writing...and then, trespassing.

I stood for a long time, leaning against the green metal of the bridge, listening to water run over rocks, watching a pair of mallards swim upstream. And I wonder: what brings restoration? How does it come about? How can my soul be an environment hospitable to such change? A thin layer of snow lay like cotton gauze on the bridge's flat parts, melting quickly when I breathed on it. Finally, I moved on, up the hill and back toward the house, past waist-high piles of shoveled snow. I passed the "No Trespassing" sign without seeing anyone, let alone someone with the intent to prosecute.

It is good to get away, and even more, to be alone. In the quiet, I am again aware of how noisy I am inside. It is unsettling that I have not been more aware of this, that it has taken me this long to notice. Perhaps the restoration I long for goes deeper than I think.