Tag: nature

Consider the Wildflowers

Posted on by Rachel Lonas

It could have been my imagination, but the air felt much more biting on the walk home from church at noon. In my mind, the day should always promise more warmth as the hours go by, not less. We walked anyway.

Walking to and from church is a normal occurrence for our family. We pass the apartment buildings behind our home, the local cemetery, the Methodist church, the title pawn shop. Then we cross the busy four lane road (which has no crosswalk), past the used tire store on one side and emergency service vehicles on the other. The final stretch is the row of homeowners, their various and sundry yard ornaments, and curious yappy dogs.

Today, however, the walk was a bit blustery even for our usual dogged determination for exercise and insistence on the children being more pedestrian (in all uses of the word) than they would normally care to be. Despite having to cross the traffic-filled street together at lunchtime, the route is very close to a straight line from point A to point B, so none of our children could ever get lost. Even the three year old knows to walk on the correct side of the road at all times, but we still have varying paces. My husband’s lumbering 6’3″ stride is not the same as my impatient I-feel-like-I-had-3-cups-of-coffee-already stride, nor is it the same as our preschooler whose inconsistent stride is always based on her whims.

So being vigilant, but still several paces ahead so as to encourage our 3 year old to reach the warmth of our home faster, I suddenly saw her stop on the side of the road and shriek with delight. What could have caused this burst of exuberance in such a chilly climb up the hill?

She found a lone dandelion.

Being so low to the ground, a burst of sunniest yellow had caught her eye amidst the dull and dark browns while the rest of us just motored on past so we could reach our destination. She laughed so naturally as she picked it for me to put in my coat pocket. Once inside, I started talking with my husband and getting out the leftovers to heat up for lunch, forgetting all about the flower. Out of the corner of my eye I saw our daughter filling up a clear plastic cup half full of water from the fridge.

“No, that’s too much for you to drink. You need to get a straw and then take it to the table.”

Frustrated in being redirected and misunderstood she said plainly, “No, it’s for the flower, Mommy!”

She hadn’t forgotten it.

I don’t know if her instinct to give the flower water came from watching her 7 year old sister do this all year round with “shot glass bouquets” from the yard or if she just knows that flowers need water to even have a chance at surviving in a house. She wasn’t thinking about how quickly it would wither once brought inside; she wanted to preserve and share the beauty of God’s creation as best as she knew how. Either way, her exceeding childish joy and loving care for something we older people ignore or pull up as a nuisance gave me a needed opportunity to reflect on the Lord’s Day.

“Consider how the wildflowers grow: They don’t labor or spin thread. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was adorned like one of these! If that’s how God clothes the grass, which is in the field today and is thrown into the furnace tomorrow, how much more will He do for you—you of little faith?” Matthew 6:27-28 (HCSB)

My husband reminded me that this passage from the Sermon on the Mount is actually a meditation on the first commandment, where Jesus tells His listeners that in God there is no need for worry because He is the provider. The Greek in verse 27 essentially translates into “be discipled by this flower”. In our age of instant and easy answers, how strange it is to be taught how to orient your life by a plant. And yet that is what I was called to on the roadside — to notice that He is still giving me an opportunity to push out distraction and comfort to see His wonder and provision that was so evident to my little girl. Being outdoors with my children is a constant reminder that I am too addicted to the illusion of self-sufficiency and far too rational to seize moments of discipleship that have been there all along.

Shades of Bronze

Posted on by Rachel Lonas

Last week my family and I drove up to see my in-laws in North Carolina for Thanksgiving. It’s a day where we usually think of bright pumpkins and yellow and green striped gourds with fall leaves in a cornucopia. However, I saw a different side of the season this year while taking a walk with my husband and two of our daughters down to a frozen pond.

I’m actually ashamed to say that I never noticed it before then; I had walked that property in the fall many times over the 15 years my husband and I have been married. This year the shades of bronze from all the spent plants on their 23 acres (and neighboring property) sang to me. The milkweed pods with their wispy white interior and curved shapes, the playful beige fluff of the goldenrod stalks, the crispy four-lobed pattern of tan hydrangea petals, the scraggly splash of lemon yellow from the witch hazel.

The next day we took pruners and a leftover cardboard box, snipping anything bronze, off-white, or muted yellow. After reaching the garage, I sat and made an arrangement of mostly dead things. As I worked, it struck me that what I was constructing was the opposite color palette of those bright fall images you see in Thanksgiving kid crafts and Hobby Lobby decorations. The items in the vase were devoid of the colors we are used to identifying them by, which would signify to many that the “abundance” has already passed or the usefulness of the plants were withered or diminished. But that’s not what my eyes saw as I strolled down the chunky gravel road.

I noticed two things:

1. Even if the color and shapes had changed some of these plants, it did not detract from their fundamental beauty. The textures, shades, and lines were simply stunning. It was almost like once their usual color was stripped away you could see aspects of their character that would have otherwise been concealed.

2. The arrangement wasn’t there to show creation’s abundance had left and was no more, but its beauty was actually a reminder that abundance is still here, albeit a different, but no less lovely form. It served as a reminder these plants will show up (and show off) abundantly again next year and for years to come.

One of the Nature Connection videos (from John Muir Laws) the Maple Key girls and I watched was on drawing and making collections based on a theme you notice as you spend time outdoors. I truly believe I noticed the shades of bronze last week because my eyes are getting sharper. Not literally, of course (I inch closer to the big 4-0 each year!), but rather through being diligent to listen to Laws’ lessons on what it means to live a reflective life outdoors. He gives his viewers better eyes to observe even when they don’t know they’re supposed to be looking.

What a gift to be able to notice God’s generosity through walking in His free wonders and delights.

What Awaits us in the Woods

Posted on by Rachel Lonas

My older 3 girls started taking swim lessons this fall. They wanted to gain some confidence in the pool and learn new skills, so two days a week we head to a local university where college students run both a swim program and a gymnastics program for children.

During that time I take our 3 year old out on a nature walk on campus next to a creek. I enjoy that special time with her because she goes to a preschool program from 9-2 on those days. She and I have no agenda. Just walking and seeing what awaits us in the woods.


As we got to the end of the trail today, she asked if she could throw rocks in the water and “make music” with her splashing. I told her yes and watched her pure joy for several minutes. It struck me how different my unhesitating response is to her than when my oldest was her age. It has taken me more than a decade to grow into a mom who can say yes to their many requests about exploring the outdoors on their terms. Watching a lot of webinars from experienced early childhood educators has helped me revisit the limitations I used to set out of my exhaustion or anxiety. Their refrain is always the same: Just let them play. Let them learn about the world in their own way.

So I did. She tossed stones, carefully held and observed a pokeberry, asked me to take a picture of a small green bug she spotted, requested a smartweed plant be put behind her ear, wondered how to pronounce the plant I picked up (‘Osage orange’), and took her precious sweet time coming back to the building when we needed to collect sisters to go home.

I can’t believe she spotted this guy!

If there is a takeaway from these little excursions of ours it’s that every time we in the larger culture make time for these moments, we are teaching the next generation that accepting nature’s invitation is a worthy pursuit. Eventually observing nature will no longer be a pursuit, but a lifestyle that has “snuck up on you” as we say in the South. My husband has steered our family in this direction in the most humble and patient ways, and yet he always foremost credits his grandfather who grew up surrounded by gardens and animals as showing him a slower, more intentional way to live.