When trifling afairs are lost

I come home in just two weeks. I decided to wait a while to write about last weekend, knowing that it would be just about...now....when I would desperately need to remember it. It was only last Saturday that I, along with two other Americans and two Germans, piled into a small, rented car, and drove 3 1/2 hours to a cabin on the Hardangerfjord. We decided to take an entire weekend to celebrate Thanksgiving. After a morning of of windy mountain roads and the always-appropriate Nickel Creek music blaring over the speakers, we arrived to our red cabin, located just 20 feet from the edge of the water.



After unpacking the car, we made our way to the small shed below the cabin that held dry firewood for our small fireplace.


Before we embarked on the meal preparations, we took the afternoon to dwell in this majesty:

And if you were overwhelmed by the misty, damp air, the mountains looked just as beautiful out the many windows of the cabin.

But if you weren't careful, the childish boasting of the mountains would take all of your attention, and you would walk right past the flirtatious drops of rain hanging from each and every leaf and needle. But God knows my weakness for these subtleties that tempt me to daydream and wander from the path, my hand forever gripped tightly around my beloved camera.

That night, as I sat on these rocks and allowed the strength and beauty of God to wash over, around, and through me, I was immediately reminded of a quotation from St. Therese of Lisieux that a friend sent me at the beginning of this fall.

"Later, in the hour of trial, when I am imprisoned in Carmel and able to see only a small patch of sky, I shall recall today and it will give me strength. All my trifling affairs will be lost in the power and majesty of God. I shall love only Him and I shall escape the misfortune of attaching myself to trifles, now that I have glimpsed what He has in store for those who love Him."

-St. Therese of Lisieux