Tuesday, September 8, 2020
Anne Richter Arnold
Seek
In February, when life was still the “old” normal, I had the luxury of accompanying my husband on a work-cation in France. Because I was studying for not one but two wine education exams, driving through the renowned wine region of Burgundy was not only a bucket list trip, but a hands on way to enhance my wine knowledge.
I was looking forward to seeing how the Pinot Noir and Chardonnay vines were trained, understanding the terroir, exploring the well-known wine producing villages I longed to see the walled vineyards established by monks hundreds of years ago as they distinguished different soil types. I wanted to see firsthand the slopes and locations where grapes were grown to produce wines destined for the tables of cardinals, bishops, and the Pope. I wanted to see everything I had read about and studied passionately for the past few months.
As we drove, I became more and more dismayed; the fog was so dense and the cloud cover so low that I could barely see the road and a few feet of villages and vines on either side. Frustrated and angry, I was convinced I was not going to be able to experience any of the things I was seeking.
We pulled over, my ever patient husband trying to salvage the day and put me in a better mood. Together we mapped out the route to a town where we could have lunch and booked a wine tasting and tour at a famous vineyard in the afternoon. I was dismayed nevertheless. Mother Nature had made it impossible to see what I knew was just yards away, and with a tight itinerary, today was my only shot.
As we drove off, I noticed the sun breaking through and, all of a sudden, the fog and clouds started to lift. Like a moment in the Wizard of Oz, when everything turns from black and white to color, the immense, sprawling vineyards unfolded. In the distance a medieval church tower appeared, and behind it more and more acres of vineyards on the hillsides. My heart leapt at the beauty of this slow uncovering of the countryside.
What I had been seeking was there all along, something I knew consciously but could not experience tangibly because I could not see it. Right now, I think of that moment often because of the uncertainty of the pandemic. We seek to know what will happen, when will this be over, and where is God in all of this.
The answers we all seek, the things that we often doubt because cannot see or find them, are there, just as that church tower is, and has been for centuries. When what we seek seems out of reach or impossible, frustration and anger and hopelessness can take over. If we have patience and faith, the clouds will break, the fog will clear, and all the things that we are looking for will be there, waiting.