The More Things Change...

I can't see my mountain quite so well anymore. In the ten short years that we have lived in our little forest home, the view of the 8000 foot peak outside my kitchen window has been obscured a bit by the generous growth of the trees on our small swatch of the forest.  Now, when I look toward my mountain, I see a bit more tree than majestic peak.

The good thing about this situation is that the trees have also grown tall and full enough to obscure the view to the deck of the vacation rental adjacent to us.  That part, I like.  There is something wonderful about living in a place where other people take vacations.  Except, that other people take vacations there.

At any rate, I was a bit arrested this morning by how fast things change. These are not small trees.  Some of them have been here hundreds of years.  Of course, it is the "teenage trees," born of the majestic elder pines, that are intruding into my view, for the most part.  Nevertheless, even a forest that was here long before any one dreamed of planting a wooden home in the midst of it, continues to grow and alter its shape.

Our lives are rather like that, I suppose.  My teenager is an adult now.  There are scattered glints of gray in my mirror.  Social norms and mores have changed substantially. We are awash in a sea of differing values.  Technology has transformed our daily lives.  

Yet a squirrel hops across branches outside my window and freezes when he sees me sitting here.  Stellars Jays bounce among branches while carrying on with their strident squawking.  The pinon pine nearest my living room perch sports green pine cones, while the enormous Jeffrey that overhangs the deck is preparing to blast the entire deck surface with the perennial yellow dusting of pollen that we have come to expect and tolerate.  I'm sure that the Chumash, who lived here a thousand years ago, sat outside their homes watching children play, acknowledged these same sights,and took then in stride.

Things change rapidly, but the rhythm of life carries on while the lessons it is, perhaps, meant to teach us, persist.  Like the cycle of the church year, life keeps turning.  The tick of the clock persists, newborns grace the arms of mothers' babies, and tiny young pine seedlings sprout proudly among spent brown needles, unafraid.

I never paid much attention to the mountain peak just south of my mountain.  This is largely because, previously, when I looked toward that neighboring peak, I got a full view of the deck of the vacation rental. Now though, with ten years of tree growth, I see only its emerald pine studded height.  It's rather lovely, actually.  I believe I shall enjoy them both from now on.

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. ~ James 1:17

Pax Christi, Dear Ones,

May you ride the inevitable winds of change with grace and a generous dose of humor,
~Michelle

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