Rattling Land Rovers and God's Mudpies

The rattle of an old Land Rover with a quiet cacophony of the winds blowing through its open windows was my comfort in those days. Weekends spent away hiking through some of the mountainous national parks. Hammocks tied beside babbling brooks and the evening harmonies of crickets as we drifted off to sleep. Sabbath mornings beside the water on protruding weathered rocks with our bibles and a guitar, our songs and our words reaching our creator and His creation. We'd head down river to a cave and explore the wondrous nature around us. We'd head up river and discover waterfalls. We'd be beckoned by our God to spend time with him and rest in the wonder of his creation that took Him 6 days to form, and Then the history of mankind to organically and independently grow and self-create. Every turn along the river, it was as if He was saying "come here, look at this", and we would follow along with excitement and awe. Gorgeous rock formations, indigenous paintings, spectacular creatures hiding about the place. Vines to swing off of a rock face into deep, dense layers of the forest floor below. We were, in that moment, in a kind of heaven. Not because it was all materially perfect, but because it was God directly spending time with us and sharing moments of discovery with us. Like seeing a mother dog with her new pups, just so darn pleased with herself in a "look what I did" type expression. God was saying "now, look at this!" He was a child showing his mum and dad the mud pies out back - intense glee, unencumbered pleasure in his sense of accomplishment and unrestricted joy in being able to share it with others. My God is infinitely childlike but perfectly mature. He lavishes over discovery and rediscovery. Over awe and wonder. He makes the steep climbs out of a gorge on a Sunday afternoon after spending the day cliff diving and cracking victory ginger beers at the cars with our legs shaking from the incline so worth it. He makes the car ride home and the moment we wake up out the front of our homes a delight. The mundane becomes wonderful. The whipping of my step sisters long, dark hair against my face from the windtunnel we've created as the 4wd bounces along a country road in the warmth of the afternoon sun is a smile-maker rather than an annoyance. It reminds me that I am in good company. That I am blessed to have friends. That I am blessed to fellowship with likeminded people. That I am blessed to have the Sabbath. That I am blessed.


This was 10 years ago. And now it all means so much more than it ever did.