More

What do you want more of? Have you ever thought about that? I’m not talking about something you go out and buy to fill already over-stuffed closets and cupboards with more stuff. I’m talking about things we intrinsically know are good for our souls. Things like more time with family, more fishing, more stargazing, more live music. I’ll ask again: what do you want more of?

For me, deep down, I know I need more time in nature. I was the little girl who played with bugs and frogs, the kid who wandered around the backyard sampling all the flowers and leaves to see how things tasted. Rocks and seashells and clouds were all a source of endless fascination.

Perhaps you remember being that kid who loved the outdoors too. We grow up, though, don’t we? We have jobs, pressing matters to attend to, stress pushing us on our right, obligations pulling us on our left, and a cell phone screen in front of our face. No wonder we walk around with hunched shoulders, our brains a tangled mess! Who has time to lie on a blanket in the grass and gaze at the clouds?

And yet the Psalmist declares, “The heavens proclaim the glory of God. The skies display his craftsmanship.” (Psalm 19:1 NLT) For me, time spent in nature slows down my spinning thoughts and gives me perspective. What is this thing we call life, and where do I fit into the scheme of it? I’ve wondered at the magnificence of a redwood tree, reveled at the sight of orcas playing in the Pacific, marveled at a nautilus whose spiraled shell would fit on the head of a pin. What handiwork went into the creation of a fritillary butterfly!

My husband and I have spent decades hiking the trails of our nearby state parks—Pilot Mountain and Stone Mountain especially. The waterfalls of the southwestern North Carolina mountains have called to us again and again. Our running joke is that we’ve hiked a “good portion” of the Appalachian Trail. By “good portion” we mean those well-tromped sections like Grayson Highlands and Roan Mountain where amateurs like us can park a car and stroll a few short miles out and back on the famous trail. Earlier this week, we climbed the 832 staircase steps of the Gorge trail in New York’s Watkins Glen State Park to view the waterfalls.

What have all the countless hours on trails accomplished for us, besides proving our bodies can still move? For one thing, even when we were crazy busy at work, allowing space on the schedule to get outdoors provided us with time to connect with each other, as well as with friends. There’s a magical alchemy that happens when you slow down and savor the view—you also savor the fellowship of your companions. There must be something to this; my husband and I just celebrated our fiftieth wedding anniversary.

As I write this, I’m sitting on our back porch listening to a wood thrush trilling its flute-like song from the trees close-by. A cheeky little wren just landed on the porch rail and fussed at me. If I return to the porch this evening, I know I’ll hear the happy sundown calls of robins and bluebirds—that’s assuming the resident mockingbird hushes long enough to hear anybody else. Being surrounded by birds reminds me of three separate instances when a timely visitation by a raptor brought special significance.

A few years back, when my heart grieved over upheaval at church, we took our kayaks to the New River for a leisurely paddle. As soon as I pushed away from shore and pointed my orange kayak downstream, I leaned back in the seat and looked heavenward. There, directly above me, soared a bald eagle, unmistakable with its white head and tail feathers. As I watched him, he seemed to be watching me, and I felt beyond doubt that I was neither unseen nor forgotten by my Heavenly Father.

Another time, my husband and I delivered custom furniture to a client whose home was on Olde Mill Golf Course. The client wanted to show us the view from his back deck. While he described his plans for his newly purchased home, a very fat red-tailed hawk landed on the deck rail six feet away. As the bird regarded us with a menacing stare, we were afraid to move, almost afraid to breathe, lest we startle him into flight. Time stood still as we focused on the stunning presence of this fierce creature. When he finally became bored with the stare-down and spread his mighty wings and flew away, I wondered what message he might have brought with him. For certain, the bird was living his best life on the golf course with the open expanse of fairways and greens as a hunting ground. Perhaps the message was simply to take it all in and enjoy every moment.

A third raptor visited in January 2021. My husband, who is almost never sick, became so ill he could hardly crawl from the bed to the toilet. Even though an urgent care visit assured us that it was a common stomach virus, I was terrified, because we had friends who had been horribly sick—and one who had died—with COVID. Sometime after midnight, unable to sleep, I was pacing the house and heard a sound I couldn’t identify. It seemed to be an owl hooting along with something else. I opened the back door, and there, silhouetted against the night sky, was a great horned owl clinging to the bare branch of a walnut tree. His deep, booming five-note call was overlapped by the answering call of his mate across the field. As I watched and listened, the intervals between the call and response became longer, and finally, I could tell that the mate was moving farther away. With breath-taking grace, the huge owl lifted off and followed her voice into the night. The experience could only be described as enchanting. Once again, nature reminded me that the same Creator who keeps it all going cares enough about my worries to reach down and offer me a smile.

While I’ve been recounting the reasons why nature is what I want more of, have you given thought to what it is that you want more of? Perhaps you want more healthy meals, more meditation, more golfing, more laughter with friends. I think that we instinctively know what will nurture our spirits. If you can get at the heart of your desire—the reason you want more—then the next question to ask is this: What is stopping me from having more? Author and minister A. W. Tozer wrote, “We have as much of God as we actually want.” I think that statement is quite true, and I also believe that it can apply to our deepest desires as well. If you don’t have all you want of the thing that you want more of, then why not? And what will you do about it?