From My Nature Journal: Uitwaaien

Ebey's Landing State Park beach, bluff in background

Had a white-knuckle winter walk at dusk last evening along the beach at Ebey’s Landing State Park -- stinging winds, fifty and sixty mile-per-hour blasts, car-sized waves, gale warnings on sea, high wind warnings on land. Recalling similar balance-challenging walks like that from butte tops in central Colorado, gusts seemed to penetrate through my body, clothes flapping, ears splitting, skin tingling. As long as I’m safe from hypothermia, I’ve always experienced winds like this as exhilarating, refreshing, even spirit cleansing.

Who knew that the Dutch had a word for that, and with characteristic vowel-rich Dutchness to boot!

I receive a daily word of the day on my phone from Dictionary.com, and it surprises me, for an English language dictionary, how often these can be foreign-language terms. I’ve certainly never heard most of them in conversation! The word is uitwaaien, only three consonants in the nine letters. Wouldn’t THAT be a way to use up all those vowels at the end of a Scrabble game! 

First, try pronouncing it. Uitwaaien. 

If you came up with out-vine, you’d be correct. I wasn’t even close. And here’s the definition: the Dutch practice of jogging or walking into the wind, especially in the winter, for the purpose of feeling invigorated while relieving stress and boosting one’s general health. I can’t say that I disagree with the concept at all. But does that mean that the return walk is stressful and depressing? Probably not, just watch your balance, especially on a bluff or cliff trail. 

Last night, as often before, the powerful impression for me as a Jesus-follower is wind as the piercing breath of God’s Holy Spirit, blowing through me, flowing through me, enlivening, quickening, enervating, purging. “The breath of heaven,” I say. Some would say, “It’s just wind!” On the contrary, with this I do disagree, having often experienced the synergies of spiritual realities and natural wonders. Why ever would one think that God doesn’t routinely communicate through both the simple and grand things of his natural world? God is an artist, a master designer, with much to teach through his works. 

In this particular case, I’m reminded of the words of an old hymn:

Breathe on me, breath of God.

Fill me with life anew,

That I may love what Thou dost love

And do what Thou wouldst do.

Breathe on me, breath of God

‘Til I am wholly Thine,

Until this earthly part of me

Glows with Thy fire divine.

~~ Edwin Hatch, 1878

The NOAA high wind warning last evening has downgraded to an advisory overnight, but perhaps I’ll get out later today for another go at it, and this time maybe even go up the bluff, careful for my footing.

Get outside. Or, shall I say, “Get uitwaaien.” My mother always said there was a little Dutch in us kids anyway.

~~ RGM, February 26, 2021

From My Nature Journal: Root Reliant

(the culprit!)

This week here at church, some workers finally pulled the tall metal stakes stabilizing several cypress trees that had been planted nine years ago when the building was first landscaped. That should be enough stabilization, don’t you think? Not quite. A seemingly lovely twelve-foot tree was on the ground the very next morning after only moderately strong winds, its root ball less than a foot in diameter after all this time. Sure, it was not growing as tall as the others, 
                                      but that might not have clued anyone but a horticulturist.

The beauty and health of a tree depends on the strength of the root.

Injure that foundation and the tree is wounded, impaired, even destroyed. Protect and nourish the root and the tree is benefited, strengthened, blessed. I recall reading of a poignant case in point: in the early going of the National Park system’s ‘tree parks’ (Sequoia, Redwoods, etc.), people would park and camp under the tree canopies, compressing the soil and suffocating the roots. As these trees died, it became clear that they were literally being loved to death.

The beauty and health of a tree depends

on the strength of the root… Lord, sink

your roots into every part of me…

The Bible speaks of the cross of Christ as a tree: He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree (1 Peter 2:12). If that be so, it also must have roots of a sort, roots that must somehow support and build me: Remember that it is not you who supports the root, but the root that supports you (Romans 11:18).

So, Lord, sink the roots of Your holy tree deep into every part of me. Extend its roots…

…into the good soil of my willingness…

…and the precious minerals of my righteousness…

…But also into the sands of my restlessness…

…and the stones of my willfulness…

…even the compost of my sinfulness…

…the crags of my brokenness…

…the clay of my humanness…

…the muck of my earthiness…

…and the mud of my messiness…

…Into the waters of my freshness…

…the loam of my openness…

…and the promise of my fertileness.

                                                                                                           

Send Your roots deep, and find in me place, purpose and welcome.

                                                                                                                        

And the surviving remnant of the house of Judah shall again take root downward and bear fruit upward (2 Kings 19:30).

The root of the righteous yields fruit (Proverbs 12:12).

He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, so that… we might live for righteousness (1 Peter 2:12).

(not our photography this week!)

~~RGM, April 10, 2015