God Speaks Through the Forest

God Speaks Through the Forest

I was 45 when I first laid down in a carpet of cushiony, bright green moss under a towering oak in the middle of the forest.

Before that, I cared too much about tardigrades and other tiny bugs that would crawl into my hair or on my skin, but this time, I didn’t, because I couldn’t.

I was carrying heavy cartoon-anvils on my shoulders and chest, forcing any remaining shallow breath in my lungs to come out.

With nothing left in me, I looked down at my feet through watery wells of anguish, and I heard the moss say, “Look out!”

I looked out and there, beyond my feet, the brightest moss bed invitingly beckoned me to rest – right there, on the ground! I scanned my body and could feel the exhaustion down to my bones. I accepted what I felt was an invitation to lie down.

It was then I heard the oak tree say, “Look up!”

I looked up and above me stood this majestic oak tree with leaves the size of giant’s hands, and I noticed they were casting the most perfectly shaped-around-my-body shade, blocking the sun’s rays from spoiling this rest I was taking.

I next heard the forest floor say, “Breathe!”

I breathed – inhaling the dried lichen and earthy dirt, the faint smell of pine and the musty, cool smell of ‘under a rock’ and exhaling over the sounds of the nearby trickling creek .

I heard the entire forest say, “Give thanks!”

I gave thanks: for the soft place for my head, for the perfect tree and shade, for the smells of summer afternoons playing in the woods as a child, for this magical spot I’d found that seemed to be placed here just for me. And I rested.

 Before long, I heard the dirt under my body say, “Get up!”

I got up. I shook the tardigrades off and laughed because I was shaking off tardigrades. I laughed because the imprint my head left in the moss made the shape of a misshapen heart. I kept laughing because it felt better to laugh than cry.

I heard the entire forest, “You are going to be alright!”

I was going to be alright, I knew I was.

I was 45 when God made me lie down in green patches of moss, by the trickling waters. He restored my soul. The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.