the hole in the sky.

Listening to: Come Thou Fount by Stephanie Immordino

Quote love: "I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night." -Galileo Galilei

This life is a lovely place, but it's tiring sometimes. So tonight, clad in an old shirt and worn out jeans, I ran outside and dove on the hood of my dad's pickup truck. It's the best place to be, if one wants to see something vast. Looking at the sky, I feel like everything is like it should be. Tonight was quiet. Quiet enough so I could hear my thoughts. The needles of the pine trees rubbed themselves together, sounding like an innumerable audience applauding the Creator. Silence is loud, you know.

I think we sometimes forget what this world was. This earth is like a canvas that people have painted over. And painted, and painted, and painted. And then after a while, we got used to seeing these unnatural shades of life: roads scribbling across the countryside, and buildings that scrape the clouds off the sky. We forgot the beauty of a world untouched by people.

But then, sometimes, there's a person who has a vague memory of the unstained canvas. Or maybe they saw it by accident, and that made them remember. And they look up at the speckled sky. And they see a place so deep that no amount of paint can conceal it.

The sky is lovely. It's the place where everything looks like it used to be.

God is everywhere, but sometimes this world seems so crowded that it's hard to imagine it. If you look up at the sky though, it's easier to remember. With the blackness bleeding into dark blue. And the moon that looks like a hole in the sky. And the clouds weaving among the stars.

It's empty, and I can imagine that vast space filled with the Lord.

♥

In His love,
Suzanne

golden, cracked, aged.

Listening to: my rambling, chaotic thoughts.

Lyric love: "But there never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them." -Jim Croce

I looked up at the pecan trees that towered over us. The sunlight filtered through the leaves and printed shadows on the ground. As the wind shifted, the shadows did too, so there was sunshine lace spread on the ground. I'll always love that.

Have you ever felt that a place was a part of your family? My dad and I wandered among the trees, crunching through the yellowed leaves. Beyond the road was a sprawling old field, and around this time last year, we had sat in the middle of it. We had talked of Shakespeare, guitar, and pondered life.

"If these trees could talk, I'm sure they'd have some remarkable stories to tell. They've seen so much in this life."

Riverside Park. Some of my earliest memories are there. Some of the best ones. My dad and I had come into Victoria and decided to go to the park, which was hilariously fun. We weaved a trail through the pecans and leaves, and we found a stick. When one finds a stick of this size, it inspires one to play baseball. We didn't have a baseball with us, so Papa proceeded to throw pecans in the air before slamming them with the stick. This caused much laughter and the smugly repeated phrase, "Watch and learn."

And later I was sitting on the tailgate of my dad's truck, and we were talking of something that happened years ago. I'm watching the leaves fall, tiny and brown and shriveled and golden. Golden.

And I had a thought.

Brown and cracked and aged, they fall from the trees. But if sunlight arrests them in its soft embrace, then they're not brown and cracked and aged anymore. They're glowing warmly with a newfound fire, sifting to the ground to be nestled among ember-like leaves.

The leaves won't be here forever, but they are here, and they're breathtaking as they glide calmly through the air. Fallen, but still so beautiful.

Sunlight does that.

The Lord does that.

He takes the broken and fallen and He makes them whole. He makes them beautiful, so they glow with His love and joy.

Psalms 23:3  

"He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake."

In His love,
Suzanne