I lost my husband today.
Or maybe he lost me, it's hard to say for sure.
It happened on the walking trail along the river near our home. The Jazzy Trail, no less.
In April, we moved from the thawing Minnesota tundra straight into the summer furnace of North Carolina, like crazy people. I'm a long way from getting acclimated to walking in the early morning sun, starting at 76º and rising several degrees as we go. I can better withstand 6º, because, you know, you can always put more clothes on. The past few weeks, we've been coping by taking all the clothes off we possibly can (without making it terribly uncomfortable for others), and hitting the pool for our daily dose of exercise.
So imagine my delight to wake this morning to a cloudy sky and a cool breeze that offered a legitimate chance to enjoy the scenery along the shore. I grabbed my husband and my camera, and we headed out.
Photographers are hopeful people. If you see us with a camera in our hand, we're on a treasure hunt, definitely expecting to find something good. Lee is completely capable of entertaining himself with little public service projects along the way, while I am distracted with such pursuits. We had agreed to walk as far as the kayak landing, maybe a mile from the trailhead.
In my head "the kayak landing" included the mimosa tree just beyond the kayaks, and of cource the place on the river right after that, where the waterfowl fish for breakfast. Obviously.
The problem in that area is that there are a lot of visual barriers, and Lee never caught up with me. By the time we were really looking for each other, we might as well have been on opposite ends of a crowded grocery store. We would have found each other much sooner.
As I searched for Lee, I was thinking of that time in the gospel of Luke when Jesus's parents lost track of him on their journey back home from the Passover Feast in Jerusalem. Jesus had gotten intently focused on conversations about the Torah with the teachers at the temple, and missed the departure. He seemed genuinely surprised that they didn't know exactly where to find him, as they understood his preoccupation. (Have you ever noticed when they found him? On the third day. It's kind of a thing in the Bible.)
Lee understands my preoccupation with beauty, and he wasn't the least bit exasperated when our paths finally rejoined this morning. I'm so glad we found each other. He's a keeper.
Also? I'm thankful that seeking beauty in creation points me right back into noticing the presence of the God who made it all. It's easy in this noisy world to lose sight of who he is, but he loves to surprise us with his kindness if we'll keep looking until we find him. He made me--I'd be lost without him.
