The Universe brought church to the countryside on a brilliant Saturday afternoon this week and filled my soul with everything reverent and good.
First, an hour of yoga practice, then the holy five.
The first mile was exhilarating. The sun warmed my bones and my heart danced all the way into the first tiny town. I raised a hand to halt traffic at the four-way stop (I love that feeling of power), and made the turn down the long road that leads deep into my favorite farmland.
Mile three takes a small curve under the canopy of thick pines, and the scented cushion beneath my feet marks the last of the next-door-neighbors that need curtains on the windows. At the top of the small hill, the trees opened to a bright clear sky, and I found myself suddenly in my beloved countryside. I impulsively raised both hands in the air and joined the angels’ hallelujah ringing in my ears. I ran straight into the powerful scent of lilacs and breathed deeply while my childhood memories of the sweet lavender perfume woke up in some sleeping part of my brain.
I nimbly dodged the ivy with leaves of three that aggressively stretched beyond its assigned space on the shoulder. One tiny brush of my shoe could have me on steroids for half the summer.
Another turn at the orchard for mile four… I surprised myself with more energy than usual in the fifth – and, just like that, my private worship service was complete.
Amen. And hallelujah.