Feelin' small

I'm just back from a business trip to San Francisco. I suppose most people think immediately of the Golden Gate bridge, those steep, narrow streets and the Piers. Several people suggested I see Alcatraz and Chinatown. I'm glad that I didn't.

I went over the Golden Gate bridge into Marin county and I followed the signs to the Muir Woods. The Muir Woods are a grove of giant redwoods preserved in a National Forest. They are magnificent. Some of the trees currently standing in this forest were alive long before Columbus sailed to the new world. Some were alive when Louis IV was on the French throne. Some of the trees were over 100 years old when Westminster Abby was built. I was humbled to stand at the feet of these giants and imagine the long, steady lives they lead. An individual man is such an insignificant, temporary speck by comparison.
The air around the base of the trees was cold. The Redwood Creek provided the gentle sound of water over rocks. I could see my breath as I exhaled and since there was no breeze the cloud of steam hung just above my head as it slowly dissipated. Moss grew on all the trees and most other stationary surfaces. Ferns covered the floor of this chilly rainforest. The sunlight that blinded the drivers crossing the Golden Gate bridge couldn't penetrate the canopy of the redwoods and where I stood on the ground was as dark as late evening. It was a thrilling, refreshing experience. I'd not trade five minutes among those trees for five days in the city.

Thank you God for the majesty of your creation. Thank you for the blessing of quiet time in your forest. Thank you for the cold, the dark, the strength, the beauty of that place.