Dallas is expecting a thunderstorm, so today on my walk, the wind pushed the tops of the oak trees so that they danced in irregular patterns. I wondered which way the storm would blow through town this time. My dog Maddie and I stopped to look, to try to determine what this coming storm might mean. Dallas has had some really crazy weather over recent years: tornadoes, flooding, and drain-cracking assaults of ice. Yet also flashes of the two-week spring that Mother Earth hands to this Texas-hot landscape. This day is none of that, only that stillness at the base of swaying trees: a sudden quiet as we wonder what will come after this moment.
This overcast sky, while the wind rages, has always stirred up anticipation within me for no identifiable reason. I stand for moments wondering what will happen and wondering what will be meant, with a willingness to accept whatever is next.
It reminds me of my very favorite line in all of literature, from Gilead by Marilynne Robinson. John Ames, protagonist, and pastor quite close to death, has decided to write an account of his life and work to his young second wife and their son. As he reflects on a life event from his past that still mystifies him, he says to himself: “I’ve wondered about that for many years. Well, this old seed is about to drop into the ground. Then, I’ll know.”
Wonder: a mystical mix of willingness, openness and acceptance shot through with a compassionate view of all that surrounds. It’s in the wind no matter what that wind may bring.