I have always dreamed of visiting New England. When my husband and I planned our long-awaited trip, I could hardly wait. The thought of visiting places like Plymouth, Boston, and the historic home of the first American Patriots overwhelmed me. My imagination was not disappointed with reality!We did indeed visit Plymouth, Massachusetts. We saw the Plymouth Rock, gazed across the water at Cape Cod, experienced the icy cold air of a December morning, and ate some of the best clam chowder I've ever tasted! The experience was quite satisfying.
Later that same day we visited Boston. It is a beautiful city, the modern growth has not crowded out the historical sites, but merely highlighted them in a wonderful blend of the old with the new. We walked the Freedom Trail, which on a warmer, sunny day, I would have enjoyed quite a bit, but in the bitter cold evening air, I found the walk mostly daunting. I'm glad we have pictures to remind me of what we saw along the way.
The next day, my hubby had planned to visit Concord, where the Revolutionary War began with "The Shot Heard Around the World." I was going along for the ride, not very interested in spending the day in the chilling air again, happy to enjoy the view from the car. This trip was for my husband, or so we thought.
We drove through the lovely town of Concord, finally arriving at the Visitor Center for the North Bridge. It was a lovely place, so I ventured out to get a closer look. While waiting for the boys to come out of the restrooms, I started to read the plaques of information around the entrance hall. Much to my surprise, I found myself reading about American writers such as Henry David Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and Louisa May Alcott. I remembered reading some of their works in college, and immediately, felt delighted and even privileged to be there. Not that I agree with much of what they wrote, but one thing I do find fascinating and even true, the need to have a simpler life and focus on what really matters.That is what Walden Pond means to me. It was a reminder to be still, but not just still, but still, knowing that God is there waiting for me to be still so He can talk to me. Still so I can let go of what does not matter. Still so I can give God my full attention. Stillness. Oh, how my heart longs for quiet, peaceful, unbusy days. Days to be still and know the presence and power of the Lord.
It is such a shame when you read about these authors, what they wrote, what they "believed." They were given the perfect setting and opportunity to get it right, but they were deceived, even distracted by what they where looking at. They were also disheartened by a legacy gone bad. For many of these writers had a distant heritage of Christianity that was lost, or worse, distorted along the way. If only these people had had the privilege of a truly Godly heritage passed on to them, what would New England be like today?
Unfortunately, as we traveled around New England, I did see the legacy left by Christians gone astray. But the hand print of God is still in that land for all to see. He is still there waiting for anyone who is willing to be still and see the salvation of the Lord. I am privileged to have been there and to have left with a little bit of Walden Pond in my heart.
