St. Bonaventure wrote that all of creation is the fingerprint and the footprint of the Divine One (vestigia Dei). By definition, this “vestige” is a small reminder, a trace of something that is no longer present. So if “all creation” is a vestige of the Creator, how big, indeed, must that Divine One be? Huge. Beyond comprehension and without bounds or the ability to be possessed.
So is it any wonder we are left speechless and in awe when confronted with the grandeur of the natural world? For somewhere deep inside we know this world is merely God’s calling card, God’s way of reminding us that — although seemingly out of sight — the Divine is nevertheless as present as the rain on our nose, the sound of the stream in our ears, the smell of the rose and the taste of the fruit of the vine. And while our churches give us sacraments — visible signs of the divine in the forms of water, wine, bread, oil, hands — the world around us is an ever-living, ever-moving, ever-changing sacrament of our never-changing, ever-present God.
I spent last week in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina, and I can’t shake the vision of stone and tree, stream and fog, mountain and valley. I still groan in wonder when I think of the view from the top of Grandfather Mountain or the early morning veiled hay field that snatched my breath away. It was the view, yes, but it was really the glimpse that got me.
Ask yourself in silence: What in nature beckons me to see God? Where is the sacred in my life?
Everything in Nature. For years I have kept Annie Dillard’s pilgrim at Tinker Creek next to my Bible.
My prayer chair sits against a window to the back yard. I invariably am drawn, against my resolve, to gaze out at the living, the flora, however poorly planted or misplaced. Whether struggling or thriving, it calls for my acknowledgement and blessing. Yet it blesses me!
“What in Nature beckons me to see God?’
Creation in its entirety each unfolding from the early break of the stupendous dawn to the sombre, darkened skies at night, from the whistling wind to the music from rustling leaves, from the heaving sea to the placid calm, from emerging life of new born babes, to the litter of babies of the animal kingdom.
From the minutest to the colossal that lives and breathes you see the Hand of God..
Man may try to clone and claim the ‘by-product’ to be his creation but take a step back, go to the origin of the ‘material’ used, therein you will see it still came from God.
Warmest regards and God Bless,
Lily Lee
Beautiful, as always, Lily.
Steve
Love that book, JL. It may be time to re-read it…hope I can find it…
Beautiful, Mary. Thanks for writing.