A hummingbird hovers just outside the window, vainly searching for nectar in my ceramic pepper plants, a souvenir from Arizona where I lived 12 years. She darts off as I turn to look at her, just inches away. The wind rustles the leaves of the birch tree planted just off the deck. It will be a warm day, in the upper 80s, and I laugh to myself, realizing that I now think that is hot.

In this second week of life in my hermitage, I am feeling very creative. I had gotten settled quickly into the 2000 square foot home, occupying only the family room and a bedroom, and bringing only the basics for the kitchen. Already I had had to buy an iced tea pitcher, a basting brush so I could marinade meat as I cooked it on the gas grill I had decided to bring. It was like a summer bungalow in some ways, and I liked the free feeling not having so much stuff gave me.

The rest of my possessions were crammed into a Packrat container, one of those portable steel storage containers that can be loaded onto a truck and put into a warehouse until I know where I’m going next. Unless it’s Hawaii, I remind myself. If I end up at Christ Church in Kealakekua, they will have to unload and re-pack my things into wooden crates and ship it across the Pacific. I try not to project too far, even as I feel a slight tinge of excitement. I imagine the older congregation on the “Big Island” as being a little less driven, more appreciative of the things I am experiencing during my hermitage and its slowed down pace. Maybe that’s why God sent me here, I think to myself. To get me ready for Hawaii.

Or there is Rochester, NY, also Christ Church. I have a phone interview with them tomorrow evening, and will have to go into Loveland to make sure I have phone reception. I had decided to use only a cell phone and not get a land line, but found it impossible to get a connection many times each day. My ability to communicate was dependent on having enough “bars” on my phone – at least two, and even then that didn’t guarantee that a conversation wouldn’t be cut off in mid-sentence because the satellite or something shifted slightly.

But this morning I am appreciating the chance to pray, meditate, read, write. I had never had so much time alone, despite the fact that I had lived alone for most of the last nine years since my husband’s death. This was different though, being 15 miles from the nearest wifi connection, 18 miles from All Saints Episcopal Church in Loveland that I had attended Sunday. Sitting here in my recliner in the family room of 14151 N. County Rd. 27, I could see two houses, but mostly just green foothills, and the hummingbird and birch tree.

In the quiet spaciousness, the only sound is the breeze rustling the leaves of the birch. In such openness, it was not hard to imagine a universe with vast possibility. Who knew what my future would bring me? For now it seemed God wanted me to be receptive to the possibilities outside my door.