Waiting

The land is waiting.

It's one of those "midwinter thaw" days, where, around here, one gets a sense of what's to come in the cycle of seasons. If one pays attention.

I went to the woods today, and tried to visit the place where D and I were married. I couldn't actually GET to the exact spot where the wedding took place, because I don't have good hiking boots, but I was there.

In the woods.

I had intended to take my camera, because I knew there would be many opportunities for wonderful photographs. But, when I got out of my car for my hike on the mostly-clear roadways, I remembered the camera.

Oh well.

So, I had to take pictures with my mind, and hope to bring those images alive with words.

I used to be pretty good at that sort of thing.

As I walked along the roads, which were soggy, icy, and covered with a winter's-worth of sand (but clear, compared to the trails), I felt my leg muscles burning, and my lungs expanding.

I have not been out for a REAL WALK since November. Chicagoland's first snow came on December 1, and it's been real winter ever since. No chance to get outside until today.

It's 55 degrees in the sun today.

I could feel the sun warm upon my cheek, as I sat at the stop light outside of the park. That warmth on my skin filled me with a very deep sense of comfort.

Anyway, walking along the roads inside the park boundaries, I noticed that sense within me that the land, here, is waiting.

In other areas of the country, it's already full-blown spring, if they have seasons at all.

But here, February is still the middle of winter. We typically get our most brutal weather in February and March. But there's always, at some point, a few days of thaw.

Usually, by now, the really bitter cold is over with, but the heavier snows have yet to fall, and the ice storms have yet to come.

Usually. With climate change, anything is possible, of course.

As I walked, and filled my lungs, and felt my heart beat, I could almost feel the land blinking Her bleary, rest-clouded eyes. She was stirring a bit, turning in Her sleep.

There were patches of bare earth visible, where the deep snow has melted away, and charming rivulets of melt water were forming new brooks in old beds.

Deeper into the woods, all was still very frozen and white, and the air felt much colder there.

There were criss crossing trails in the still-deep snow; deer, coyote, fox, wild turkey.

Few birds greeted me today, but the ones who were present were VERY happy, flitting about in the bright sun, and chirping loudly.
Mostly, they were black capped chickadees. The tiny birds that will always remind me of my late mother.

As I walk in the woods, typically, I come into a Spiritual way of thinking. The woods are my church, and always have been. I go to the woods when I feel in turmoil, or when the stress in my life becomes overwhelming, and, in the woods, I find peace.

Walking in the woods is, for me, a sort of mini-retreat.

Today, looking at the land, I started thinking about waiting. Anticipating. Hoping.

I have been in a state of waiting, anticipating, and hoping for many months now.

My hopes have been dashed a couple of times, and the waiting is becoming wearisome. VERY wearisome.

But SOMETHING has got to give. SOME miracle has to happen. Some stirring.

I can't have been brought to a stage in my life where I FINALLY have the chance to be with someone who actually loves me, only to have to continue to ENDLESSLY wait.

And wait.

And wait... for it to really happen.

I often drive myself crazy with thinking: We found each other. We fell in love. We got married. Why did it then have to just....stop? It was just supposed to keep going, and we were supposed to be happy. We were supposed to have started a life together....

Today, walking in the waiting woods, I came to a different understanding of it.

It has not STOPPED.

It's just....resting. Waiting.

We are still here, we still love each other, and we KNOW that we WILL be together. Some day.

For whatever reason, in Whoever's plan, we are obviously not supposed to actually BE together yet.

But, as with all waiting, SOMETHING has to give. We can't sleep for ever. SOME miracle will happen. In much the same way that spring always happens. Eventually.

In the darkness of winter, it's easy to give in to hopelessness. To despair. To feeling helpless.

But on days like this, when the sun shines, and I can walk outside in just a fleece jacket...no parka, no snow boots, no hat, no scarf, no gloves....and the sun feels warm upon my cheek, and the chickadees chirp....things CAN look a bit different.

I can't let go of hope. I must just ... wait.

And wait.

As my elderly distant cousin wrote in a letter..."It'll happen. Chin up, girl."

Perhaps now, there will be a bit of peace in the waiting.
I can hope for that, and anticipate it, as the ice melts, and the green shoots unfurl....eventually.