Sunday, November 21, 2010

where it begins

I awake and the morning is November-crisp new. Pockets of sunlight are patched to the floors, sewn to this first scene of day by a low-slung sun.

I am content, rested, in the peace of untouched glory, for this is glory, His fragrence in me and a sweet chance to spread it anew. I will open this package soon, and the box will spill on its side, top-heavy with the weight of laughter and conversations and scooped-up servings of warm soup around a hefty table. But, for now, the day is a baby, and it is not yet time.

I look around at this still-life. Quiet, and nothing to trumpet in but the steady tick of our wedding clock and my sneeze. The first winter cold has come. There is a mug and acucer and a love note on the corner of the table. I read the note and smile back to him, still sprawled on the bed, claiming over the empty lot my body has left.

Finger slips through the mug's circle handle; I pad to the kitchen and pour in the coffee and a scootch of whipping cream. Joy and gratitude lap their warm waves to my edges, and I stand in the undulating calm. Gifts all round. I am unexpectedly overwhelmed by the kitchen appliances of all things. There is a fridge, and it runs and keeps our food cold, and there is a dishwasher, and though it croaks a scary rumble some nights, it works! And a stove! In the space of 9 feet by 13 feet, how much there is to sing for! Glass jars of flour and oatmeal and brown sugar.


Green plants that stretch over lips of clay pots.

Windows of free light and a lemon apron on a single hook.


The symphony is in concert, and oddly, in the quiet, I hear it best.

I want to see the Conductor in every moment.

The man in the other room, the one whom my heart loves for reasons told and untold, asks me now and then how I am remembering Him. "Do you abide in Him all day, not just in that morning hour? Do you lay upon your bed at night and recount what He has done?"

This sacred space is where I start, but I pray it is not where I end. I yearn for this wonder and praise to last, to see the Unseen Hand behind all the hours that I tred.

"Oh Lord my God, You are very great.
You are clothed in splendor and majesty.
He wraps Himself in light,
He set the earth on its foundations,
He waters the mountains from His upper chambers,
He makes grass grow for the cattle,
brings forth food from the earth,
wine that gladdens the heart of man,
oil to make his face shine,
and bread that will sustain his heart.
I will sing to the Lord all my life;
I will sing praise to my God as long as I live."

-Excerpts from Psalm 104


No comments:

Post a Comment