This weeks' reflection is from a member of the Scripture Walk team, Aimee Bernardo.
Most mornings before work, I step out onto my back deck with a cup of coffee and just sit. No big plan. No pressure to do it “right.” Just a few quiet minutes before the day starts asking things from me.
Living in the Berkshires in Western Massachusetts there’s already a sense of calm in the air, especially early in the morning. The Appalachian Trail runs about a mile up the hill behind my house, and I often think about the people walking it, carrying only what they need, moving one step at a time, trusting the path ahead. In some ways, this season of my life feels a little like that too.
In midlife, I’ve been going through a transition. Some of it I’ve chosen, and some of it I didn’t see coming. There are days I feel grounded, and others where I feel like I’m figuring things out as I go.
That’s why this time in the morning matters so much.
Over the years, through transcendental meditation, Christian meditation, mindfulness, and yoga, I’ve learned that I don’t need to solve everything first thing in the morning. I just need to arrive.
Some days I quietly sit with a line of scripture. Other days I just notice the light coming through the trees and trust that God is in the quiet whether I feel anything or not.
One morning not too long ago, I remember feeling especially unsettled. My mind was already racing through the day before I even took my first sip of coffee. I almost got up to go back inside and start working early.
But instead, I stayed.
A few minutes later, a deer walked slowly across the yard, not more than fifteen feet away from me. It wasn’t startled or hurried. It just moved calmly and quietly through the morning.
That moment stayed with me the whole day.
I remember thinking, why am I rushing so much?
The turkeys that wander through, the groundhogs that pop up, and even the occasional bear remind me that I’m part of something bigger and not in control of most of it. Nature just keeps going. It doesn’t rush. It doesn’t overthink. It simply moves in its own time.
This time on my deck has become less about doing a practice and more about learning how to let go a little. To listen. To notice. To trust that I don’t have to have everything figured out right now.
Scripture Walk talks about slowing down and connecting with God through creation. I used to think that meant I needed to go somewhere special to experience that. Now I realize it can start right where you are.
A quiet morning. A cup of coffee. A few extra minutes of staying instead of rushing.
The trail may be up the hill, but this feels like a path too.
Aimee Bernardo