Small Things with Great Love

Thursday night, winter gave one last gasp and sleet and ice fell; in the morning, the trees were bent under a burden of millions of icy crystals.

All day Friday, the rain fell hard, and the skies remained leaden and heavy.

I determined I would run in the forest as long as I could endure the rain and cold, and promised myself, that the initial discomfort would be worth the effort.

It's challenging to run on trails that are slick with rain, but the forest canopy filters the heavy raindrops, and buffers against the wind. 

I chose the trails in Briar Chapel, close to home, and the hot shower I would need after I ran. I noticed Briar Creek was swollen and had flooded its banks, and carefully chose my route around the high waters encroaching upon the low-land trails.

I witnessed a heron, close to five feet high, standing as a sentry at the edge of the flooded marshland. Keenly he watched me, as I ran by. I ran along the roads, then threw caution to the wind, and chose the trails into the woods, I needed to commune with the trees. The narrow hiking path was ankle deep in rushing puddles most of the way, and my shoes filled with rain and mud splattered up to my thighs. Around a bend, I heard the twittering of a Tufted Tit Mouse, busily winging his way through the foliage. A small Golden Finch, was resting near the trail, his wings sopping wet, and I worried for him, but when I approached, he took wing, and I wished him well, as I ran on. Deeper into the woods I traveled where the hard woods bent by wind, rustled their branches and creaked as limbs rubbed against neighboring trees. A sound that sounds like ice cracking.

A beautiful hickory lay toppled across the path, roots exposed and naked, as it leaned into the arms of an oak that had stood against its falling. A pine blocked the path, anothre great tree, now uprooted and vulnerable.

Slivers of ice clung to the leaves, and rocks, and as I left the trail head and returned back to my car, I found a little square of thick card stock with writing nestled in the sopping pile of leaves. I put it in my pocket, and kept going, relishing my wild and beautiful run. I'd witnessed the forest bruised and resilient, I had communed with it, shared its story, and celebrated its strength and continual growth and losses.

Once home, I took out the soggy tile I'd found and discovered it unfolded to reveal a poem and drawing in ink. 

"Not all of us can do great things, but we can do small things with great love." - Mother Teresa

The artists signature gave me a clue for finding out more; Angela Gage resides in Ohio. The back of the card states: "You have found an artistic piece of human kindness...Enjoy!" crediting The Tangled Kindness Project: http://tangledkindnessproject.blogspot.com/

I will find another trail to leave this tile of human kindness on for a runner or hiker to discover and marvel at the serendipity of being at the right place, at the right time.

How this tile made it to Pittsboro, North Carolina, from Ohio, I'm not sure. But it's a simple reminder of our interconnectedness and what is possible when we step out of our comfort zone, and embrace the storm.