I learned that all back yards, no matter how big or tiny, have the potential to be infinite.
I returned from a retreat with my youth group last Sunday tired out and in a contemplative mood. The sun was still up and the sky was, for the most part, clear. Andy was out doing something and I was alone. All was still. So I grabbed a towel and went into the backyard, laid it down upon the soft green grass and stretched out to stare at the sky. The clouds that evening were cirrus clouds, the kind that are very wispy and form at very high altitudes and are, incidentally, my favorite sort. So as I lay on my towel (which in an odd sort of way reflected the sky my gaze penetrated, being a faded azure with a whitish bleach stain in the middle), I began to lose all sense of perspective. All I could see were the tips of tree branches at the very edge of my vision, and the lazy and silent parade of the evening weather, lit by the setting sun. For an hour, perhaps longer, I lay; observing the clouds change from white to pink, the sky darkening in hue, the airplanes glinting the remaining vestiges of day, being high above the shadows in which I now rested. In them I remained while I prayed, and listened.
I have not engaged in such dynamic non-activity for a very long time. Perhaps since I was a child. Needless to say, the opportunity to have a backyard for three months is one I relish greatly. I almost feel like I'm on a three month retreat. But I digress.
About the time the first stars were making their appearance, the chill of the evening was also making itself apparent. So, satisfied, I sat up slowly on my blanket. Apparently not slowly enough, as all the blood rushed from my head and I got slightly dizzy. In this brief moment, perspective returned in a non-violent, but still suprising manner, as my formerly unbounded vision once again became subject to the familiar nearness of the objects surrounding me. I blinked once, twice, having a slight difficulty comprehending; has the world always been so small? I smiled to God and to myself, and as I think of it now, I realize further meaning in my experience: sometimes we need to be taken from our own narrow perspective, and rest on the firm Rock who dwells beneath, before, behind, and within us. And that any backyard, no matter how small, has the potential for infinity, if only one is willing to lay and rest.
