I Wonder...

Thoughts from my journal, June 17th 2007

There is a glorious irony involved in eating an apple in a tree that makes me want to laugh. And then the sun comes... rose pink covering a corner of the sky while wisps of clouds saunter so slowly I wonder if they, also, are in awe of the sunrise. The birds are singing such sweet songs I wonder if music can ever be the same.. And there are cars. Two, three of them can be heard at a time, circling around Legagote Mountain, reminding me that life goes on outside of my little world in a tree. Something has happened... something I can't fully grasp. Whatever it is has made me virtually unable to walk by a tree without longing to sit on one of its limbs. Oh Lord, bright yellow is sending away the pink! Rising, and bringing snippets of warmth with it... the clouds have all fled in terror, except for one. It sits boldly above the heart of the sun... waiting, stretching, yearning to see something from its angle that is impossible to see with both feet planted on the ground, or even from a tree. It is as if that cloud needed and indeed, expected, to be made radiant before moving along to the business of the day.

My recent distraction has been accurately labeled 'recapturing Sabbath wonder', which I find beautiful, though no set of words can completely express how deep in my soul I have begun to feel. At what age did I stop climbing trees and building castles? God, praise be to You that imagination does not disappear when disregarded, but only grows flabby from lack of use. Imagination is a gift, as is laughter, and I cannot live well without either one. But God does not ask for me to do so. Instead, He tells me of a time He spoke through the stars, and a poor girl He made queen in order to save His people. He speaks about a lion and a lamb lying down together, and then even more boldly declares that He wants me to love others more than I love myself. The sun is a bit hidden behind the cloud now, but I am quite sure this won't last long. In fact, the sun has already taken back center stage, as soon as the cloud realized that to block the sun is to block light.

Annie Dillard says, "There is no such thing as an artist: there is only the world, lit or unlit as the light allows. When the candle is burning, who looks at the wick? When the candle is out, who needs it? But the world without light is wasteland and chaos, and a life without sacrifice is abomination." And then she says, "What can any artist set on fire but his world? What can any people bring to the altar but all it has ever owned in the thin towns or over the desolate plains? What can an artist use but materials, such as they are..."

I am learning that I need not understand everything... but sometimes must just look at the sun and trust the Maker.