Clearing life's landscape

I recently returned from another of my frequent road trips. Road expeditions hold great mystery and fascination for my husband and me because we are unsure of what to expect. Scenery teases flirtatiously with its hide-and-seek demeanor, saying, "Come see what's hidden here -- uncover what we can teach you." Consequently, I received an awesome revelation while traveling home from our last excursion.

As we journeyed up and down hills and around curves in the road, I noticed the barren fields, and trees with lush green leaves and grass absent from their décor. Fall and winter are my favorite seasons. The crisp frigid air, colorful piles of leaves and stark, windswept ground arouse my interest. In spring and summer I could scarcely see across the terrain because of the covering of thick foliage.

I could now see far into the distance because of the lack of clutter. Autumn and winter display subtle characteristics unlike the obvious beauty of spring and summer.

As I gazed across the now sterile countryside I noticed an old, red run-down barn hidden behind a frozen knoll, and I glimpsed squirrels running to and fro -- a spectacle normally unseen because of the blanketing underbrush. I visualized the approaching season of lethargic hibernation, so necessary for nature to replenish itself. Plant life and soil lie dormant for a season so they might live and bear fruit again in the spring. I pondered how people possessed numerous similarities to nature.

However, since human beings feel they exercise some control over their circumstances, people often feel guilty when seeking respite from the endless demands of life and wonder why they lack the ability to continually stretch themselves without experiencing burnout, depression or ill health. Hospitals must be full of people with that attitude.

I re-examined my life as I appreciated the typically unseen aspects of nature now revealed. And consequently I realized I best perceived the genuinely worthwhile in life when the stuff in my world was cleared for a time -- stuff such as jobs, people, pleasure, events and whatever else filled my time. When my days were filled with "things" I was unable to find the important. But within an empty space I could hear the hidden truths the Holy Spirit was anxious to reveal. I recognized I, too, needed time to hibernate and tunnel inward. Only then could I find the living water to quench my thirst, rest my spirit and illuminate my life.

Each time I hear complaints regarding the dreary barren days of winter, I think I'll remember my road trip on that wintry day. Although winter possesses starkness and adversity; without the nakedness and reflective atmosphere of the season we would fail to appreciate the exhilaration and freshness of spring. Our lives, too, must experience privilege and hardship, introspection and movement. Only then can we appreciate the good and distinguish the worthwhile. Anne Bradstreet says, "If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant; if we did not sometimes taste adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome."

Often when our lives seem unproductive, we are merely sorting through the valueless, appreciating the good and attending to the worthwhile. I shall, hopefully, always remember that, "Where my treasure is, there my heart will be also." Matthew 6:21.

Have you cleared your life's landscape recently to see of what your treasure consists?

Ellen Shuck is the director of religious education at St. Mary's Cathedral parish in Cape Girardeau.