Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge A tropical storm moves out into the Atlantic Ocean leaving the dunes in a moody fog.

For some time a part of me has been considering entering the nomadic RV life upon retirement; maybe not becoming permanently nomadic, but at least for a while. The impetus arose, in part, from my work as an urban forester in Northern Virginia.  

I love being outside, have since I was a child. One winter day, as a little girl growing up in a suburb of Chicago, I went out to play in the snow. My older brothers were inside and I was happy to have some time to play by myself. After a while, I laid down in the snow and enjoyed looking up into the gray clouds, seeing the little flakes of snow drift down, feeling them tickle my face. I lay there for some time, happily lost in the peacefulness of the falling snow. Eventually I found myself looking up into my neighbor’s face looking down at me, wanting to know if I was alright. For some that question may remain.  

Being in the natural world and learning how it works is endlessly fascinating. I'm especially fond of forests, their complexity and the layers of life above, beside and below. To walk in a healthy forest is to feel my soul releasing the cares of the world. My thoughts are directed away from the machinations of mankind and into the thoughts and ways of God. I sense the beauty of his handiwork, the cool of the air coming off a mountain stream and from the shade of grand overarching canopies. I wonder at the purpose given to the smallest wildflower, or the tiny ruby-crowned kinglet flitting energetically from branch to branch, sensing myself as something small in a vast landscape and resting secure knowing that if God cares for the kinglet, he cares for me (Matt 6:25-34).

Among my pondering are things like, if God cares for the kinglet, the smallest wildflower and the forest, why is it that so often we don't? A few of the developers I worked with would tell me they loved trees as they laid out plans for the land they controlled that cleared either everything or virtually everything. That struck me as odd. Giving them the benefit of the doubt, that they genuinely did love trees, why didn't their love affect how they determined to develop? Real love is not self-seeking (1Cor 13:4-7).

And, quite honestly, it wore on my soul to repeatedly see things like the homes of Scarlet Tanagers, Ovenbirds and Wood Thrushes cleared again and again until these birds, who need large tracts of forest to breed, could no longer live in our neighborhoods. The nomadic life began to look like a sabbatical from such frustrations, a time to be inspired by and explore places where protection of the natural world is far more effective, celebrated and appreciated. And a time to be able to focus on writing out my ponderings that revolve around the goodness of the land and our responsibility to be good stewards of it.

I'll be straight up with you. I believe that God is. That he has not left us to blindly figure out how we are to live. I believe that he wants us to live on this Earth, his Earth, in relationship with him. And that relationship includes us caring for what he has made. Toward that end, he has given us what several philosophers have spoken of as his "Two Books", which I will explore in future blogs.  

So here I am, living nomadically in an RV, inviting you to join me in an adventure of seeing and savoring this wonderful natural world around us and growing in our understanding of how we may be good stewards of it. My aim is not to be preachy, but thoughtful and inviting. I welcome your kind and thoughtful input too.

If you would like to come along with me, you can:

1.  Follow me on Facebook (Julie Flanagan).  I have significantly more posts on Facebook than Instagram, and my posts will lead to this website,  and/or

2.  Follow me on Instagram: the.wandering.lorax.

Sincerely, Julia Flanagan

All photos and text are Copyright © Julia Flanagan unless otherwise noted.  All rights reserved.