Nature – sethlewis.ie

Tree House (a poem)

Tomorrow, my wife Jessica and I celebrate twenty years of marriage. Two decades sounds like a lot to me, but—doesn’t everyone say this?—it seems like it’s gone quickly. When we first got married, I wrote a poem for Jessica about how our love was in Spring, and I didn’t know what seasons would come, but with God’s help we would keep growing through them all. Twenty years—and many different seasons—later we’ve made our home in this growing love. That’s what this poem is about:

Slow Happiness

As I look out the window at the sunshine on my garden, I remember the many days that I saw the same view differently—when the glass was streaked with rain, when the ground was hard with frost, and the plants that are budding and growing so beautifully today were nothing but tiny seeds or bare sticks. It all changed so slowly, but it changed so much. And as good as it looks today, I know that there are even better things ahead—the apple blossoms will ripen into apples, the rose stems will bloom with their own unique colours and fill the air with their intoxicating aromas, there will be blueberries and strawberries and maybe this year we’ll finally get some grapes from the grape vine, now that it’s more established. It takes time, establishing. Our blueberry bushes give us a lot more now than they used to, and the apple tree is a little bigger every year. Life is like that, too, isn’t it?

The Same Person In Every Room

I was sitting in a meeting this week when a thought randomly crossed my mind about how odd it would be if I had come in wearing the clothes I had on earlier that same day, when I went to swim laps at the pool. My goggles and togs didn’t raise any eyebrows at the pool, but they would have at the meeting. And if I had shown up at the pool with my meeting clothes on, that would have drawn a bit of attention, as well.

Transcendence, Inc

My children and I were heading home after a swim, when a work van caught my eye. It had “Transcendence, Inc” written across its side, but honestly, it didn’t look very transcendent. It was parked on the footpath between the hotel and the road, just like any regular old non-transcendent work van would be. A closer look at the smaller print confirmed that “Transcendence, Inc” was the name of a company offering high-end decorating and furnishing services.

That’s a clever name for that kind of business. And perhaps it’s true, in the very lowest sense of the word, of merely “transcending” our normal expectations with something a bit beyond them. I’ve seen furniture and decorating that really has gone beyond expectations, leaving me genuinely impressed. For a while.

Steeple Mountains

It was a Sunday afternoon in Killarney, and I was alone with no time pressure. In a situation like that, there’s no difficulty in knowing where to go—it has to be Killarney National Park. The paths are basically endless there, winding as they do through the mature forests that grow along the lakeshore and up into the mountains. The fields, the ruins, and the trees all have long histories, histories that bleed their weight and significance into the air and make quick steps—like mine—ring with impertinence.

My manners were mended when I was forced to step aside from the main path in deference for a horse that was pulling a jaunting car. As I waited, I noticed a narrow track worn into the ground at the very edge of the lake. This new way called to me with the eternal appeal of the road less travelled, and I was not disobedient. There were no horses on that tiny trail, and no other people, either. The sound of my own heavy feet on the ground was all I heard, accompanied by the occasional rustle of the leaves above me and the endless quiet splashing of rippled water against ragged outcroppings of rocks and roots beside me. When I stopped my noisy shoes on a protruding boulder, the stillness immediately enveloped me.

A Collection Of Incredible Creations

In researching and writing for my next book, “Everything Speaks: Learning the Language of Creation”, I have been constantly amazed at the detail and design of the world God put us in. Even now, there are songbirds outside my window flying effortlessly on perfectly crafted wings. There are plants that began as tiny seeds, and they’re out there converting sunlight into energy and releasing oxygen for me to breathe. There are worms aerating the soil and clouds watering the forests and galaxies are spinning and molecules are bonding and King David was right when he wrote that:

“The heavens declare the glory of God;
    the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech;
    night after night they reveal knowledge.
They have no speech, they use no words;
    no sound is heard from them.
Yet their voice goes out into all the earth,
    their words to the ends of the world.” – Psalm 19:1-4

In the book, I want to explore how we can understand what God is saying to us through the things he has made. But for now, I’d like to share a few aspects of creation that I have found especially fascinating as I’ve researched. First of all, trees. Did you know that they can talk to each other? Research has shown that that there is much more going on in the forest than meets the eye:

Another Chance (a poem)

It’s been months since I paid any attention to the long-lost autumn leaves that are lying in the grass alongside the roads and paths that I walk on. The glorious colour they impressed me with when they fell is nothing but a memory now. Then again, have you seen what frost can do to a leaf on the ground? This morning, every vein of every leaf is highlighted in white—the intricate patterns stand out in shimmering relief—and once again my eyes are drawn in renewed wonder. A few weeks ago, I would have told you that these leaves were far beyond their glory days. This morning, they shine unexpectedly with a new and different kind of glory. Our Creator can make beauty shine from a pile of dead leaves, and anywhere he wants, and long after we’ve given up hope of it ever coming again.

Stop Looking For Friends, And Start Making Them

The treasure of true friendship is some of the richest, most valuable wealth in the whole world. If financial poverty eventually makes life unsustainable, friendship poverty makes it unbearable. By true friendship, of course, I don’t just mean acquaintances you enjoy a laugh with every once in a while, or online “friends” you can share pictures of your dinners with. I mean the real thing. The deep thing. The close thing. The uninhibited, understanding, unhurried and unbreakable thing. I mean the people who stick even when other people let go, the people who love you even after you’ve done wrong—and too much to let you get away with it. I mean the people who laugh with you about stupid inside jokes and cry with you about losses and disappointments and who know exactly what you’re thinking just by the faces you make. I mean the people you can trust enough to share life with—not just the social media highlight reel life, but the really real life, in all the mess and joy and shame of it. Friendships like these are more valuable than Blackbeard’s buried treasure (which is still buried, by the way). If we discovered his treasure hoard without ever developing true friendships, our lives would still be impoverished. Which raises the question: how do we find the treasure of true friendship?

A Compass For Our Changing World

We’re a few days into another new year, and nobody knows what the next 12 months will bring. What we do know is this: the world is changing fast. Culture is changing. Economics are changing. Demographics are changing. Beliefs are changing. As the world shifts around us, there’s plenty of disagreement about which of these changes are moving us forward, which are holding us back, and what the path of progress should look like. That’s a vital question. Years ago, C.S. Lewis made an important point about it:

Top Books Of 2023

I’d like to finish the year out by sharing the six best books I read this year, and some recommendations from my family as well. These are not books that came out this year—some of them are old, but I read them this year and enjoyed them. You might, too.