On a recent walk I spotted a turtle on a curb. He was perched as if on a diving board ready to enjoy a dip in a pool. I thought I would save the little guy from sure ruin by returning him to the water source he came from.
Looking around, I spotted a nearby ditch filled with brown, unclear water. The ditch was about 12 feet below street level with a steep drop. I stood amazed imagining this little brave turtle climbing that steep embankment.
I am not sure how a turtle thinks, but looking at the unclear water I thought if I were a turtle, I too might want to leave that murky place and find a better water source.
So I picked up the little one and walked it about one mile back to the clear pond in our neighborhood. Along the way I found myself rubbing its underside, to comfort it along the journey as he was getting a bit dried out.
The pond was beautiful that morning. Glistening in the sunlight, a film of pollen blanketed a section exposed from the shade of trees. Grasses grow at this shallow end, allowing a bit of a habitat for those at the bottom of the food chain to nestle in.
I set the turtle down at the grass end of the pond and watched. Soft breezes threaded themselves through the grasses. Dried leaves danced on invisible currents. A marriage aroma of fresh cut grass and decaying nature filled the air.
In time, the little guy bellied up to the shore. After a few seconds of contemplation, he took a comfortable dive into his new habitat.
I contemplated the times in my life where I was like the little turtle, having moved away from old seasons, finished projects and/or wheel spinning. In the process, even with well-thought through plans, I too have found myself on the curbs of life. With the old behind me, and nowhere to go but forward through a dangerous and blinding section of road, God’s rescuing hand came along.
He opened a door prayed for, brought an unforeseen gift or offered words through the pages of Scriptures or wisdom from others. God’s presence alone is evidence of his miraculous love and adds purpose to his creation.
Were I to question any sense of the miraculous, I’d miss out, for God’s mighty hand continues to work in the faithfulness of his Creation. When I take the time to observe God’s Creation, I worship Him more, on a different level than getting lost in a book or rubbing elbows with humanity.
No wonder Jesus took time to pray in secluded places. Though the texts don’t say, I imagine Christ’s conversations with the Father a wonder. Speaking to Living God in person, Christ surrounded himself with nothing in the material world but God’s personal work of creation.
How much more do I have to learn by meditating on God’s Word among God’s own Creation?