Traveling in Place

Imperfect and Lovable

Remember my clock? The ca. 1956 Smiths mantle clock Martha found at a flea market and bought for only $5 because it didn’t work? Well, it’s been running beautifully since June. It sits on the mantle of a gas fireplace that we’ve been enjoying regularly since the temperatures turned cooler. Behind the clock is a picture window framing the yellow October leaves of a sugar maple. The clock reminds me that the seconds pass at the same pace no matter what time of the day or year it is. The seasons constantly alter the view out the window, but the clock keeps ticking, dependably adding a chime every half hour.

It doesn’t keep perfect time like the digital read-outs on my cell phone and computer screen. It’s not nearly as accurate as the atomic clock in my cable box. It’s an analog clock that has to be wound up every week. It gains a couple of minutes the first part of the week, then loses them toward the end of the week. Occasionally, I have to open the back, stop and remove the pendulum, and turn the nut inside it either to the left or right. This adjusts the length of the pendulum, which in turn affects how fast it swings. It’s amazing to me that the tiniest change in length – even one that is imperceptible to the eye – is enough to increase or decrease the clock’s accuracy by a couple of minutes each day.

I’m grateful for the accuracy of digital clocks. But they don’t need me. In fact, I can’t adjust them. They operate entirely on their own. So while I’m glad to have

True Colors

As the days grow shorter, the process of photosynthesis comes to an end, draining the green hue out of tree leaves. Without sufficient solar energy to be converted into nutrients, the leaves stop receiving fluids. They are dying before our eyes. But, of course, that’s not how it appears to us. What we see is a brilliant display of red, orange, and yellow more dazzling than any pyrotechnics or synthetic light shows.

The leaves are turning rapidly now in Central New York. Last weekend, I was in the Adirondack Mountains to witness what must have been the peak of color. The picture at right is from an unplanned hike to a remote pond near Lake George. The position of the sun was just right to produce a deep blue sky that contrasted sharply with the bright red and yellow leaves. The primary colors of the light spectrum were rich and vivid. The other images I have included are examples of what I saw from a few high places.

The colors are turning, but in reality, the leaves are not changing. They are revealing hues that have been hidden by the chlorophyll absorbed through photosynthesis. So, in the process of dying, the leaves show themselves as they really are. And it is in this natural state that they are unequivocally the most beautiful.

Jesus often alluded to the natural created order (lilies, birds of the air, grass of the field, seeds sown in the ground, and the wind, for instance) to explain how all of life works in God’s realm. The beauty of autumn leads me to surmise that when our bodies give out and we enter our final rest, our true selves are fully revealed to God, who finds us beautiful to behold.

Taking the Scenic Route

I’ve just returned from my annual spiritual retreat in the Adirondacks. I couldn’t have picked a better weekend. Through much of the region, the fall colors were peaking and made even more brilliant by the low angle of a bright autumn sun. On Thursday afternoon, Friday, and Sunday morning, I hiked 26 miles, including treks to three outstanding peaks with broad open views. Each evening and all day Saturday (when low clouds and heavy rain kept me inside), I spent hours reading, praying, and meditating. It was a rich experience.

One of the unexpected pleasures of the weekend was a walk down the Gill Brook Trail near St. Huberts. This winding and often challenging path follows one of the most picturesque brooks in the High Peaks region. It eventually traverses Mt. Colvin and Blake Mountain, and intersects with trails that lead to other popular summit destinations. But for two miles, it gains no significant elevation. As the ADK trail guide says, “it is quite rough in spots and requires more time than its distance would indicate.” For this reason, it is often avoided. Years ago, ADK workers cut a shorter trail from further up the Lake Road directly through the woods. This “cut-off” shaves time off the overall trip to those summits while significantly reducing the amount of physical effort needed before reaching the steep ascents. But, as the guide also says, “it is worth using this trail in at least one direction.”

I headed down the Lake Road early Friday to climb Indian Head and Fish Hawk Cliffs, both of which provide spectacular views of Lower Ausable Lake and the surrounding peaks.

With my camera and tripod in tow, I decided to follow the Gill Brook trail to get there. So initially, it was just a means to an end, albeit one I expected to be more interesting than the route I had taken the last time I made this hike. But I quickly realized this journey was its own destination. I left the path frequently, climbing