With the Dark / With the Dawn
We had three full weeks of very warm, very humid and very
cloudy weather. It’s the kind of summer
weather that some hope for, but not me.
I’ll take a day in the mid-70’s, on a day when I’m in an exceptionally
good mood, I may even be fine with temperatures in the upper 70’s. I prefer a windows-wide-open day and night to
air conditioning. I confess that I find long
stretches of hot weather depressing.
So, all the better late last week when the weather guessers
were calling for some clearing, accompanied by lower temps and lower
humidity. We were planning to attend the
final city band concert of the summer in St. James Park (see Rockwelled, June
17,2024), so I laid the fire in our fire pit before we left. Since it would be dark by the time we
returned home, I wanted it set, so all I would need to do is set a match to it.
The final anything of a season is a cause for
reflection. I tried hard not to dwell
too long on how many things have yet to be crossed off our summer to-do list
and instead try to absorb as much of the richness of the evening as possible.
Although a weather front was predicted by dinner time, we
sat by the fire pit watching the flames keep the darkness at bay with the sky,
still cloudy and starless overhead. But
as evening, like the wood pile, was dwindling, a single star appeared high up overhead.
As we watched, the hole in the clouds widened to include a second and a
third star. From the graceful arc they
formed Michelle was the first to recognize a section of the handle of the Big
Dipper. But, sooner than the excitement
started to build, the hole in the clouds closed up as if a curtain was drawn.
I tossed three more big chunks of oak on the fire. These would be the last for tonight as it was
getting late. Michelle cheated and used
a stargazing app on her phone to narrate what was beyond the cloudbank. She noted that the moon would not be
visible.
Then, a single star, more to the west this time peeked
out. Again, the clouds quickly covered
it again. But there was a noticeably
thinner look to them. Just a minute later,
one, two, five stars suddenly broke through.
It was easy to see that the clouds were dissolving now. In a matter of about fifteen minutes the
entire sky, with the exception of a lingering wisp of cloud here and there
became deep and bejeweled. I recalled a
favorite verse from Isaiah, “No more shall you be called “Forsaken,” nor
your land called “Desolate,” but you shall be called “My Delight is in her,” and
your land “Espoused.” For the LORD delights
in you, and your land shall be espoused.” Is 62:4
In the morning, as the sun cleared the trees that line the
eastern horizon from our view, the
rays lit up the millions of droplets of
dewfall. It seemed that each blade of
grass held a faceted diamond that set the whole yard a-sparkle.
Last night’s conversion was blessed by God with life-giving water,
now made holy with this new day, this new creation.
His Peace <><
Deacon Dan
Photo by Luca Severin on Unsplash
Comments
Post a Comment