Back to the Bench

Some of you might remember a post I wrote last year about one of my favourite places to spend time: one particular bench in the park near where I work.

It's a lovely spot, out of the way and in the shade of a willow tree, with a wonderful view of the lake and the scenery beyond.

There's something about the stillness of that spot, and its closeness to creation, that makes it easier for me to pray and listen. My dreams, my prayers and my faith seem to expand to fill the physical space I'm in. New, bold ideas come easier, as if something in the clear, fresh air unlocks my creativity.

Breathing space.

Saturday afternoon by the bench

Just what I needed last weekend, so I thought I'd pay my first visit of the year. It was cold and wet, so the visit was fleeting, but I lingered just enough for it to bring back memories.

The last time I'd written about the bench wasn't my very final visit of the year, but it turned out to be one of the last. If you read September's post, you can probably imagine that I wasn't much in the mood for many more visits after that. I didn't need anything else to remind me of that time, thanks all the same.

The disappointment has weighed heavy on my heart through all the in-between time. In the process I'd let the bench become a sort of symbol for my disappointment, my crushed dreams, my journey into the wilderness. It stopped me wanting to go back, and I'd been missing out on one of my favourite spaces to be.

No longer.

This year, I've decided to claim it back.

This year, I'm believing that there's a new life-season coming. And I'm believing that as I watch the physical seasons change from my vantage-point on the bench, the same will be happening in my heart. New shoots springing up. Buds emerging from dead-looking branches. Life breaking through. Hope awakening. Spring is coming. It might not look the same as it did the last time, but it's coming, and it's going to be beautiful.

So I'm starting a project. Each time I visit the bench in 2015, I'm taking a picture from the same spot. Just like the two separate photos I serendipitously took last year which I used to make my point in that old post. By the end of the year, I'll have a collection of pictures that not only map out the physical year and its changing seasons, but the changing seasons in my life, too.

This year, the bench will be a symbol of hope. Expectation. Restoration. Peace. But most of all, it'll be a sacred space for me to spend time with Jesus.