Just my backyard.
For the past few weeks I have been coming to this place again. A small table, cheap white plastic chairs. A cup of coffee. At the back porch of my abnormally plain suburban home.
While I sit sipping coffee, I read through the Bible, write out some hopes and fears and "recreational theology", acknowledge that God is hearing everything as my prayer. God "hears" my choice of location, my posture, my awareness of what surrounds me, and my thoughts. God hears what I am doing, thinking, and seeing.
One of the thoughts that keeps coming back is one of remembrance and loss. Now I attend this little sacred getaway most mornings each week. It used to be nearly everyday. I used to enjoy this as my "summer office" for hours at a time, now for only minutes. My work office is elsewhere behind walls and a narrow window through which no fragrances nor breezes pass. So I grieve the loss of my summer office, remember the goodness of it and perform this daily ritual of prayer and hope.
Sent from my Blackberry, in other words, I'm out and about wandering in the wild world...