Words hold immeasurable depth of meaning for certain individuals. I am one of those folks that pours over a phrase much longer than necessary to be certain it is appropriate. Verbally, I am a nightmare. A never-ending force of diarrhea of the mouth, digging holes deeper by the day, trying to backtrack, think ahead, and forecast my next statement, all of which leads to frustration, confusion, and at times, anger.
Writing, though. Carefully contemplating a message I long to relay. The perfectly chosen words in which to send that message. Reading, re-reading, editing the content to a carefully constructed piece of art I am proud to share with the world. Not that some of my writing has not gotten me in hot water (trust me, it has!). But far less than my random, spontaneous, outburst of verbal genius (which I later realize was anything but…).
As much as I love words, there are times in life when a picture simply outweighs the magnitude of expression I feel so deep within my soul. This picture illustrates one of those times.
My boys and I, along with my fiancé, were headed home after an evening bike ride on the Galloway Trail on the outskirts of Springfield, Missouri. We were all tired, hot, sweaty, thirsty, hungry, and wishing we could magically transport ourselves from the bike trail to our house, bypassing the 20-minute less-than-scenic commute though town.
What happened, instead, in the midst of the frequent: “Mom, I have to pee”, “Mom, I’m thirsty!”, “Mom……” complaints, requests and near bladder explosions, was a sight straight in front of my eyes that positively took my breath away.
The sun, her glorious descent from day to dusk already begun, was shining breathtaking rays of light through the puffy cotton ball clouds overhead. There was just a hint of window in which I could see the light from the daily burning life force we often take for granted. The white farm fence casting a reflection of the light from the rays of the sun was almost mystical. Every person I have ever known, loved, and lost in this life seemed to seek me in that small space, that barely existent window, where the sun appeared cascaded by the clouds surrounding her.
This was such a glorious sight. I could not help but take a snapshot. I asked my fiancé if he could take the longer way home so I could get a better view from outside the truck. Of course, my sons, moaned and groaned from the backseat, as the setting sun is not as miraculous a sight and experience to them at ages 11 and 9, as it is to me at 41.
As I stood on a concrete block from the construction site overlooking the historic Rutledge Wilson Farm Park in Springfield, MO, armed with my iPhone, for the perfect shot of his perfect moment, I happened to look over my shoulder. One kid was peeing right there on the side of the road (conveniently hidden by the truck door), the other was making tick-tock sounds from the open backseat of the truck, in diligent efforts to hurry me up.
My serene, peaceful moment of being touched by the sun (Carly Simon) was lost in translation with the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Getting the kids home, fed, bathed and to bed at a respectable time before their first day of school. Getting myself prepared for my first day of school. Picking up the house, letting the dogs out, folding the laundry. The endless monotony of house chores that never ends and greets me less warmly than my elderly dog. Lucy, who is happy to see me at the end of each long day.
Yet, that picture of the sun setting. Another day drawn to a close. My trusty iPhone could not adequately capture the beauty my eyes beheld. The rays peeking out to bid their last farewell of a day I will never experience again. The beauty and wonder of this world that my Heavenly Father created centuries ago and still manages to shock and awe her inhabitants to this day.
A gentle reminder that while each day ends, a new day is just around the bend.
