Nature’s Lessons: Resilience, Renewal, and Peace

What the Earth Teaches Us About Healing

Photo by Chano - McGaheysville, Virginia

There's something about stepping outside and feeling the air on your skin that feels like an invitation—an invitation to slow down, notice, and simply breathe.

When grief feels heavy or life seems overwhelming, the natural world quietly meets us where we are. Trees don't ask us to be cheerful. The sky doesn't expect us to have everything figured out. The waves, the wind, the birdsong—they allow us just to be. This quiet, healing power of nature is a source of hope, comfort, and inspiration, reminding us that it's okay to exist, even in pain. Nature's embrace is a reassuring presence, a constant companion in our journey of grief.

When Kevin was diagnosed with clinical depression in 2008 and stepped back from college, we sought ways to help him find moments of peace. Spending time outdoors in sunlight boosted serotonin and improved our mood, so we made it a priority. Nature became a significant part of Kevin's journey toward renewal. Watching him create a garden in our front yard was especially meaningful. He carefully chose plants and arranged them with thoughtful precision, selecting perennial evergreens and flowering annuals, placing each with care. These small acts of creativity, patience, and attention are cherished memories, precious because there will be no new ones.

Our walks and mini-hikes around Long Island were always unforgettable. Kevin had a special talent for noticing small, often overlooked details: a delicate flower along the trail, a splash of unexpected color, or the way sunlight streamed through the trees. He would capture these moments with his camera and then turn them into drawings or paintings, which he gifted me for birthdays or Mother's Day. Each gift reflected his extraordinary eye for beauty, even during tough times.

Nature played a vital role in Kevin's life. He rode his bike along park trails, explored wooded paths, and organized hikes and picnics in open spaces where he felt at peace. These experiences weren't merely activities; they were sacred moments where his spirit could breathe and healing could quietly unfold. Nature stood witness to the laughter, conversations, and tears, offering comfort when words felt insufficient and inspiration when hope seemed distant.  

Resilience and Renewal

Nature teaches us resilience in ways we can see and feel. After a wildfire, new shoots emerge from the ashes, vibrant and persistent. Life finds a way forward, just as, over time, renewal blooms even after the most profound grief. Strength, compassion, and fresh perspectives often develop in the most unexpected places. The resilience of nature serves as inspiration, reminding us of the human spirit's remarkable capacity to overcome loss.

Last week, we returned to the mountains, a place our family has cherished for years, staying at a Four Seasons Resort. This condo offered a perfect view of the woods, mornings filled with birdsong, deer grazing, and butterflies drifting lazily through the air. Being there allowed me to feel close to Kevin, remember our walks together, and hold onto the sacred connection between memory and nature.

One day, we hiked to a waterfall in Shenandoah Park. Along the trail, I marveled at the trees—each one unique and holding its own quiet strength. Some had roots buried deeply, invisible to the eye, while others sprawled above ground, twisting and stretching toward air and light. I realized that grief often mirrors this experience; sometimes it lies so deep that no one else can see it, and life may appear steady from the outside. Other times, grief rises to the surface like exposed roots—messy and tangled, impossible to ignore. It reaches into every part of life, demanding care, attention, and presence.

Tree in Shenandoah Park

The waterfall itself was a calming presence. The sound of rushing water offered a constant, comforting background, and joy welled up as my granddaughters eagerly took off their shoes to splash in the stream, their laughter as free as the current. Their delight sharply contrasted with my sadness, yet it also served as a gentle reminder of life's resilience and the small joys still within reach. Watching them play brought to mind two waterfalls from years past. One time, we visited Jamaica during a family vacation in 1995. Another in the Dominican Republic, where Kevin, 19 years old, young and fearless, took a daring twenty-five-foot dive. I can still see the happiness on his face and the courage in that leap. I wish I could carry that kind of bravery now.

Dunns River Falls, Jamaica

Dark Hollow Falls - Shenandoah National Park, VA

In moments like these, I find solace in the words of Psalm 23:2-3: "He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul." 

Nature, along with the gentle presence of God, brings a sense of peace and refreshment to my heart, even during the most challenging times. Those cherished spots, whether beneath the trees or beside flowing water, are where healing can begin to blossom.

Watching my granddaughters enjoy nature with the same adventurous spirit Kevin had is a sweet reminder: grief might soften joy, but it certainly doesn't take it away. The giggles of children, the twinkle of sunlight on the water, and the gentle breeze are small bursts of beauty that can lift our spirits if we let them.

In the months after Kevin's passing, we often found comfort simply by being outside. Long walks became more than just exercise—they were a survival journey, a way to breathe, keep moving, and notice life. Each step was a small victory against grief, and nature, with its constantly changing beauty, remained a steady source of comfort and inspiration.

We marveled at our neighborhood lake, dotted with ducks gliding across the water, newly hatched turtles making their slow journey, rabbits scampering, and two blue herons ready to take flight as humans approached. Sunlight danced and sparkled on the rippling surface while birds flew overhead. These simple, fleeting glimpses of life reminded me that even in sorrow, the world still holds moments of wonder and quiet beauty.

The ocean teaches similar lessons. Some days it is calm, like a mirror of the sky. Other days, waves crash with relentless force. Grief behaves similarly: sometimes quiet, sometimes overwhelming, and constantly evolving. But just as the sea returns to calm, grief also ebbs and flows. The tides remind us that emotions follow cycles; we may face a storm, but calm will come again when we are ready.

In nature, death is not the end. Fallen leaves nourish the soil, and old trees provide homes for new life to flourish. Life comes in many forms and continues to unfold. Kevin's presence stays with me, not as I wish, but through the memories we shared, the love he left behind, and the ways he continues to influence my life.

Grief, like the forest, grows around us, through us, and with us. And in these sacred spaces—whether under the trees, beside the waterfall, or under the open sky—we find a place to pause, remember, and keep moving forward.

The natural world is not just where we live; it is God’s creation, full of meaning and reminders that we are part of something much bigger than ourselves. Every tree reaching for the sky, every river carving its path, every bird finding its way home—all are part of a larger story written by the Creator. If we slow down and listen, the Earth offers quiet lessons in resilience, rootedness, and community. It shows us what it means to stand firm in faith, to rely on each other, and to live as part of something steady, sacred, and real.

As Psalm 19:1 reminds us: “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.” Creation itself is a testament, a gentle invitation to remember that God is present, constant, and near, whispering peace through the beauty of His world.