The sun was shining and the air was warm one morning last week, so I skipped away from my normal routine and decided a walk at the lake was in order. I had it all planned - a slow, quiet walk with coffee in hand. Time to enjoy the vista, to stop and smell the roses. We have such a pretty view on our doorstep and I hadn't taken the time to enjoy it in so long.
It was a morning of pretty scenery (which I'll share with you in a minute) and one of tranquility, but along the path there was more. A chance meeting with a woman piqued my interest more than the pretty landscape.
A brief morning greeting had me stopping to chat with the lady for awhile. We introduced ourselves to one another, spoke vaguely about our families - the basic things strangers share. Visiting the lake is her routine - wandering when the weather allows, sitting quietly to watch the birds skim only inches above the water (her favourite part) and to listen to the soft joyful noise of the church bells ringing. She has time to observe and take it all in, time to think - too much time. The woman is younger than me with a child half my youngest child's age. I would say her whole life is ahead of her, but life is hard and it will be shortened. MS limits her. She brings herself to the path in a motorized wheelchair.
Quickly our conversation extends beyond the view of the lake and becomes about life, kids, and God - it made me stop and breath deep. After a bit of time I found myself standing there holding her hand and chatting. I don't think she could possibly know how incredibly bright she is - and how she changed my day.
Our conversation carried me throughout the remainder of the walk and the entire day. Well - and here I am, many days later still thinking about the real rose that I came upon. Suddenly the path was not just one along the waters edge, under the canopy of mature tree's. Sometimes the path leads you to look at a much bigger picture.
Shortly after I said goodbye and continued my walk, I received a phone call that was expected - but still unwelcome. A member of our family had passed away early that morning. I was walking along the rose beds at Gairloch Gardens and decided that I shouldn't just stand there and look at the blooms. The morning brought more of a need to actually smell the roses. While I was kneeling in the grass to breath in the scent of the roses, it was the perfect opportunity to say a prayer.
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| The shoreline at Oakville, Lake Ontario |
It was a morning of pretty scenery (which I'll share with you in a minute) and one of tranquility, but along the path there was more. A chance meeting with a woman piqued my interest more than the pretty landscape.
A brief morning greeting had me stopping to chat with the lady for awhile. We introduced ourselves to one another, spoke vaguely about our families - the basic things strangers share. Visiting the lake is her routine - wandering when the weather allows, sitting quietly to watch the birds skim only inches above the water (her favourite part) and to listen to the soft joyful noise of the church bells ringing. She has time to observe and take it all in, time to think - too much time. The woman is younger than me with a child half my youngest child's age. I would say her whole life is ahead of her, but life is hard and it will be shortened. MS limits her. She brings herself to the path in a motorized wheelchair.
Quickly our conversation extends beyond the view of the lake and becomes about life, kids, and God - it made me stop and breath deep. After a bit of time I found myself standing there holding her hand and chatting. I don't think she could possibly know how incredibly bright she is - and how she changed my day.
Our conversation carried me throughout the remainder of the walk and the entire day. Well - and here I am, many days later still thinking about the real rose that I came upon. Suddenly the path was not just one along the waters edge, under the canopy of mature tree's. Sometimes the path leads you to look at a much bigger picture.
Shortly after I said goodbye and continued my walk, I received a phone call that was expected - but still unwelcome. A member of our family had passed away early that morning. I was walking along the rose beds at Gairloch Gardens and decided that I shouldn't just stand there and look at the blooms. The morning brought more of a need to actually smell the roses. While I was kneeling in the grass to breath in the scent of the roses, it was the perfect opportunity to say a prayer.
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| Roses at Gairloch Gardens |
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| The bells at Saint Andrew's Church ring softly each morning. |
Let the path lead you.........
