http://photosDead leaves have started to gather on the surface of the lake spread outside my kitchen window. The sky is cloudy and grey and there is a noticeable chill in the early evening air. I call to Scott as he leaves out the front door, “Put on a sweatshirt, the night will be cool”. I know he’s not paying me any attention, because the door slams before I get my last words out. I feel a catch in my throat as my voice trails off, feeling suddenly sad that he has gone out for the eveni…ng. I press my eyelids to stop self-pity tears from falling.
Sitting alone at the kitchen table, I’m relieved by the thought that Stan will soon be home from work. Sedric is spread out patiently at the back door, listening for the sound of the car.
Looking out the window, I notice that Stan has recently filled the decorative urns with golden mums. I tell myself to mention how nice they look when he comes. I smile thinking about Stan’s seasonal rituals of dressing the landscape of our home so beautifully. Even in his mourning, he has done this.
This week, driving in and out of our neighborhood, I have made a point of driving slowly, lingering even, to take in the brilliant colors of the many surrounding trees. I think of the awesome beauty of God’s handiwork, the wonder of it all.
This morning, I stopped my car to gaze into a crimson and gold colored maple tree. In my stillness, I felt a peacefulness settle over me. Suddenly, I was soothed by a soft coming melody and then, a new song filled my ears: LONG BEFORE TIME WAS, I KNEW YOU AND CALLED YOU TO BE MY OWN…SEE ME IN ALL THE RHYTHMS OF THIS WORLD AND MOVE CLOSER…EVER CLOSER…AND DANCE…DANCE…MY LOVE…DANCE