s u n r i s e s

As we grow older, our childish sense of wonder tends to fade - if we let it.

How do we preserve an understanding of the importance of sunsets, ladybugs on wet leaves, or a bedtime prayer? The little things that infuse beauty into ordinary moments? How do we teach old eyes to see anew?

On the first page of my favorite book, "The Little Prince" by Antoine de Saint Exupery, is a drawing of an elephant swallowed by a boa constrictor, or just a drawing of a hat, however you choose to see it. The author writes that as a child he showed the drawing to adults, who never saw it as more than a hat. As the story continues, Exupery gives the reader the choice to accept and learn from simplicity and beauty or to label the book as as fairy tale and move on.

As I re-read this book, I am reminded that the more busy and pre-occupied I become, the less I can see beauty and wonder.

But let's talk about sunrises and sunsets. 

"First this: God created the Heavens and Earth—all you see, all you don’t see. Earth was a soup of nothingness, a bottomless emptiness, an inky blackness. God’s Spirit brooded like a bird above the watery abyss. 

God spoke: “Light!” And light appeared. 

God saw that light was good and separated light from dark. 

God named the light Day, he named the dark Night."

Each sunrise, then, is a reminder of that first sunrise. Darkness into light. 
This is why I chase them. This is why they never grow old. Each sunrise reminds me that God created all things in the beginning and graced this world with luminescence and created the sensory-neural connections in my brain so that my eyes may behold. Call it energy, call it an electromagnetic spectrum, call it a scientific phenomena, it's still a miracle. 

And what about sunsets, what story do they tell? Some of them are magnificent and dramatic while others are gentle and quiet. They remind me that seasons come and go, and there is no day so terrible or night so dark that will not see the light again. God alone gives us grace to endure and new eyes to see.

I. The Wanderer's Song

Find me, find me where the tall grass grows
In the sunlight-catching meadow
With the evening growing cold
Come winding down the path
Past the weeping willow trees
Leave your burden in the grass
Let the stillness set you free

Find me, find me in the morning dew
Where the silence is surrounding
And the sun rises anew
Here we will find our safety
From the shadows in the night
Which are cast long and far and
The light ever pursues

Find me, find me before we've grown old
So we may do so together
And brave the darkness and the cold
Our love will be fire
In the blackest nights and longest days
What is love that does not kindle
Other fires and light the way

Lighting

      Sometimes I forget how much writing is like other disciplines of life: if you practice, you get better, and if you don't, you get rusty. I'm on the rusty side because it's been a while. Though I haven't picked up the pen recently, I have done a lot of summer reading on a variety of subjects, from cancer to modern art, and a variety of authors, like Steinbeck and Suzanne Collins. I eat books for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The more I read, the more I learn (for the most part).  I've also had many adventures, like surfing, whitewater rafting, and bouldering. This afternoon, I went to the mill with a good friend and we spent a few hours exploring the empty rooms and experimenting with lighting and photography. I started falling in love with shadows. The way they embrace an object or figure, draping it in darkness, making the little bit of light more entrancing. And let me tell you, the light at the mill at 5 in the evening is beautiful. 

So good that I'm going to keep going and keep chasing it and discovering how it falls gently and uncovers the shadows. Because nothing, nothing can make the darkness flee but the light. The mill would just be an enormous, empty cave if it weren't for the light streaming through the windows and telling the story of all time. 

Sustained

Tonight is a clinical night and I should be working on paperwork, but instead I write. My heart is so full of many things and I just need to slow down and breathe. On my iPhone I keep my notes app open so that I can jot down thoughts throughout the day. As I open it now, it looks something like this:
Thirsty heart // Off the beaten path // There's no such thing as ordinary //Seek His presence continually

And in capital letters, I AM SUSTAINED. The words that have been in my head for the last month. I am weak and fragile and seeing through a glass dimly, but I am sustained. My heart is alive because I am drawing from a source other than myself, relying on the Living Water, Christ the Solid Rock. And I am learning, following, often stumbling, but I am sustained. Life is happening so fast all around me and I'm fighting more than tiredness; I'm fighting for moments and simplicity amidst chaos and the glorification of busy. Every day, without realizing it, I make countless tiny decisions. Waking up thirty minutes early or sleeping in. Hurrying to class or stopping to smell the daffodils. Choosing thankfulness or choosing to pass these moments of grace by. I am learning to appreciate these days more fully.

"So we do not lose heart. Though our outer man is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal." - 2 Cor 4:16-18

The eternal weight of glory. Eternity. Weight. Glory. Unseen. Words to wonder at.

Kindle A Fire

Love the light and let it change you.
Don't be afraid to have your shadows exposed.
Let it ignite a flame in your heart.
Kindle a fire in your chest.

 Sometimes, the darkness seems stronger. The battle seems lost. But the flame cannot be extinguished.
"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." - John 1:5