Not To Over-Spiritualize

I don't like to over-spiritualize things. In fact, despite all of the miraculous things I see and hear tell of, God seems to work with and through me mostly in practical, though no less mysterious, ways.

While in Poplarville, Mississippi escaping the ravages of Gustav, I desperately searched my mind for some deep insight or some super spiritual thought to ponder, or blog about, or at least to calm my own mind with. As of today, I still pretty much had nothing – no revelation to share, no heartfelt no-need-to-worry-everything-will-work-out speech, no deep insight on how to handle adversity.

In fact, I wasn't handling my current circumstances particularly well. Up to this point in the evacuation I had pretty much mentally and spiritually checked out and engaged auto pilot or gone into some kind of maintenance mode. Others seemed to be coping far better than I, even when their situations were worse.

Since all of yours are probably infinitely more interesting than mine, I won't get bogged down with the mundane details and bore you all with my Gustav saga. Suffice it to say that it included much driving in traffic, and periods of being crammed into small rooms with several relatives and a smelly dog, offset by times of utter aloneness at our family camp miles from anywhere or anyone.

Manning that lonely outpost necessitated driving into town for groceries periodically. Upon returning “home” from one such excursion, I hauled in a few victuals. In my current circumstance, this entails pulling up to the gate, disembarking my vehicle, unlocking said gate, re-embarking said vehicle, proceeding through twice-said gate, disembarking twice-said vehicle, re-locking thrice-said gate, then re-embarking thrice-said vehicle to drive to the camp for one final disembarkation and the actual unloading.

Yes, I said victuals, this rustic setting is beginning to affect my vocabulary. Also, I find myself hankerin' (yes, I said hankerin') for biscuits and gravy, craving country music, and feeling a greater than usual, almost unnatural affinity for my truck – but I digress (apologies to Chuck).

(Here Todd is penalized 15 yards (YES! Football season is here!) for the above overuse of colloquialisms, multiple digressions, and bogging down in mundane details after saying he would not.)

After hauling said victuals from my truck into the camp, with dusk approaching, I walked back outside.

Standing there in that blessed solitude, I took in the beauty of God's creation. I was overcome with wonder and gave praise to Him who created all - billions upon billions of stars in countless galaxies stretching unimaginable distances just to provide a suitable dwelling for us, His beloved. As He finished the work of creating, He scanned the totality of His creation, all of it's height and breath and depth and all of time from beginning to end. From sunsets, created simply for our enjoyment, to storms, intended for our testing, He pronounced it all very good. In that moment I agreed with Him and worshiped.

As my spirit basked in and mind reflected on this, a huge meteorite shot across the evening sky, just above the trees. It was an event that lasted only about two seconds, not even a blink in the grand scheme, and only a blink or two in my day, but as I sit to write, it's affects still linger. There was something undeniably spiritual about it all. It was as if I had shaken off my numbness and reemerged from my stupor a whole being once more in touch with his creator, who gave tangible assurance of His approval.

Coincidence? I say God wink. Not to over-spiritualize, but they always seem to come at just the right times.