I’ve never been a nature girl. Growing up I hated hiking – in large part due to the stiff brown hiking boots from the boys department my mom made me wear. But the dirt, poking pine needles and incessant buzz of bugs made each trail torture. I was never a big fan of sitting outdoors for a picnic or round a fire braving (enduring more like) the elements. If an outing required more than sunglasses and sunscreen, safe to say it was not the venture for me.
Dad pruned trees, hauling cumbersome branches, a remnant of dry leaves remained in his wake. Mom piddled in the garden, her hands happy in the soil. She loved watering the plants and seeing the flowers parade across the yard. I took my book indoors; clear of all petals and leaves.
But when I started meditating on Genesis, I found myself back in a garden. I discovered that God shared my parent’s penchant for nature.
The first thing I noticed as I read – God created every element of nature and kept calling it good. Skies, stars, seas – good; vegetables, animals, humans – good; everything He made got praise.
The next thing that caught my attention beyond the goodness of creation was the connectedness of creation. I read the second chapter of Genesis slowly; slow enough to see something I’d missed in my previous drive-by readings.