Alpine Lake is hidden away along the Nordic Ski Trail just waiting to share its splendors for the honest quiet seeker/watcher of God’s awesome creation. Elv and I had Saturday evening to ourselves, so we decided to hike the trail to see the little lake. We were there several years ago on one of our “explorings”. This time it is at “full pool”.
I sat down at the very edge to watch and see whatever there was. The more you look, in this kind of setting, the more you will see. Elv stood behind me and waited, too. We each had our phone cameras in hand.
Right at my toes I found these little beauties. The perfection of a wild swamp flower amazes me. This is a arrowhead plant. You can see most of the leaf there (missing the point of the arrow on this picture). There were tiny black ants crawling around on the leaves and flowers.
There were fish jumping out there… trout, we read, on the information board on our way out later. The blue jays had a discussion under way beyond the northwest shore of the lake. We never did find out what it was there were making such a racket about.
I always hope we will see a bear or some deer emerge from the woods on the other side of the lake to drink. Only once have we seen this, many years ago up on Cheney Lake.
On the way home I spotted a reptilian looking plant growing in the dead leaves along the trail. A tiny piece of it came home with me. I found out the next day that I had just filched an orchid from the wild. Rattlesnake Plantain Orchid to be exact. It is beautiful.
The DNR officer that we met when we got back to our car was a lot more concerned about the mysterious pile of a child’s possessions: car seat, life jacket, toys and other things pertaining left lying in the parking lot there by the woods. A lot more concerned, than about my ignorant orchid gathering.
Another untold story that. My mind goes all kinds of places that I wish it wouldn’t go when I see such things dumped in the wrong spot and abandoned. Where’s the child? What the story? And then I realize I don’t even really want to know. I want to know that the situation is being “taken care of” by the right people. That’s all. So then I think of my one way of helping. I can pray. God knows all. He cares perfectly. He can. Possibly by my intercession alone, an angel of some sort can effect a rescue. I must never forget to pray. It could make all the difference.
Do you believe that our whole day was orchestrated: our work, our free evening, our walk, all of it could have been by God just for our concern to come before Him for this? How big is your God?
Brad has been yearning for a little workshop of his very own. He has worked hard all summer and saved his earnings. So last week he was ready. He still waits for his driver’s license so I took him to the lumber yard in Stone Lake for materials. We took time to brainstorm and make a list first. I’ll admit that I pushed him to do it right for a couple of reasons, appearances being one of them. What’s worse looking than a thrown together shack of this and that?! So with the help of CLP’s fat, carpentry text book and his own ideas, he began. This picture was a week ago. He’s been working his two other very part time jobs between and taking time to play on the weekend and as of this writing four walls are up and door framed in and the rafters soon to be.
More about stories again now. We are so very, very blessed. A little old Native American lady told me her stories last night and this morning sitting at my dining room table. Elv cooked for the two of us while she prepared to be taken to the clinic for her next stopping place and then we sat down to breakfast. She put honey and creamer in her coffee and stirred it vigorously while she talked. I sipped my coffee and listened silently. I honestly couldn’t tell what part of the things she told me were true or what things were only a part of her unrealities, which seem very real to her. I honestly don’t know what to think at all. What part of what I did for her even came off as the love of Jesus to her? She thanked both Elv and I profusely for all we had done for her. She claims to love Jesus in one breath and talks about Hollywood in the next. She has lived a hard life. She is not able to think straight. She has a well worn Bible.
In the end, I have to believe that part of her time here was about how I would do with it all. It was my test. I guess I don’t have to figure out which box she fits into, do I? She is a lonely old soul and Jesus loves her as much as He loves me. My story reads far different from hers, but I have to say, if she ends up next door on Mansion Street, I won’t mind at all.