sunrise sunset

yesterday was stunning and surprising. the morning started out in exploding colors--shades of orangey peach splashed over with clouds of deep perwinkle purple. it was the most colorful sunrise I have seen since that Conference 05 sunrise over the Danube.

the day itself was blustery grey, monotone colors all except the stubborn quivering goldenrod leaves on the tree outside our classroom window. they are the last ones to hold on and i have been silently cheering them on, wishing for their strength to hold out through winter. i know it's foolish to hope for this, but i truly nearly cried last week when out of the corner of my eye, i spied outside our window movement--at first mistaking it for snow, but discovering that it was just a flurry of the last lovely leaves in our little thicket.

a friend--a fellow dreamer--recommended Robert Frost to me for this new season, and i was delighted to find a copy of one of his poetry books in our little RIA library. starry-eyed i have been pouring over its pages and ran across this little gem, which perfectly expresses the sentiment i have been feeling in this changing of seasons:

Reluctance

Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world, and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
And lo, it is ended.

The leaves are all dead on the ground,
Save those that the oak is keeping
To ravel them one by one
And let them go scraping and creeping
Out over the crusted snow,
When others are sleeping.

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,
No longer blown hither and thither;
The last lone aster is gone;
The flowers of the witch-hazel wither;
The heart is still aching to seek,
But the feet question 'Whither?'

Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?

the beauty of this poem is that in my mind it is paired flawlessly with this one:

Revelation

We make ourselves a place apart
Behind light words that tease and flout,
But oh, the agitated hear
Till someone really find us out.

'Tis pity if the case require
(Or so we say) that in the end
We speak the literal to inspire
The understanding of a friend.

But so with all, from babes that play
At hid-and-seek to God afar,
So all who hide too well away
Must speak and tell us where they are.

how true it is; how vital community is for our survival and sanity, and as a child of God filled with the Holy Spirit, how beautiful it is to feel his Spirit pouring in and through us as He ministers to our spirits in relationship. even in moments of lack of words or inspiration, his Holy Spirit speaks volumes in the pregnant silences, in the tears and shared pain, and in the smiles and freckles.

i cannot forget to mention the beauty of last evening. after a moment of connecting with my friend aubrey and praying with her, i walked out into the rapidly descending dusk and could not tear my eyes away from the cloud-laced moon above, and the deep shades of blues and violets that painted the skies.

parentheses around a seemingly-mundane day. how little we see of what God is doing, yet how blessed we are with reminders of His work and sovereignty unavoidably displayed across a giant canvas up above.