Friday, June 5, 2015

Coloring beautiful



It's been raining all week.
This.  The first of June.
After a spring full of chilly.
And skies colored in gray.
Walking around still.
Tucked inside our fleeces.
Shivering.  Anticipating.

And much of life like that.

The wait.  And the.
Hope.
That things will change.
And get better.  

And yet days continue.
Full of chilly.

And gray.

Situations falling apart.
Expectations unfulfilled.
So often.

But.

I'm learning.

There is a certain beauty.

For a day in June.
Full of translucent sky.
And muted color.
With summer on pause.

And our lives.

Despite the longing.
For something more.

Filled full.
With gratitude.

For even days of gray.
And rain.  And what is.
Coloring beautiful.
Outside the lines.




Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Just happy



Took a ride.
Into the country.

On a warm afternoon.

In May.

So welcomed.
This warm.
Sunlight splattered.
Trees gently swaying.
A canopy of green.
Blue sky peeking.
Occasionally.

And pulling in. 
Joining the others.
Walking together.
Toward the riverbank
and trees tall.
Framing the venue.

All dressed up.
So much pretty.
And handsome.
And colors galore.
The hues of summer.
Splashed around. 

Laden with gifts.
And small talk.
And moving as one.
Toward the pavilion.

Gentle conversation.
And warm greetings.
Wafting and garbled.
Across the river.

And then.

Laughing suddenly.

In delight.

The groom among us.
So full of smile.

And his answer.
To a question.
While we gather round.

No.  No. 
He laughs.

Not nervous. 

Just happy.

And these words.
Taking me back. 
Having said the same.
Years ago now. 

In May.
 
We all take our seats.
As the music begins.

And the attendants.
Forecasting her arrival.
Appearing one by one.
Lovely women in lace.
And creamy beige.
And little girls.
Throwing rose petals.
 
Then the bride.

Walking down that aisle.

And we mesmerized.
By her beauty.
In a simple Victorian gown.
With a lace train.

And boots on.

Seriously sweet.
Perfect even.

Toward her Mr. Darcy.

No bride.
Has ever been more beautiful.

And the groom.
Barely able to contain his joy.
Unflinching.
And chivalrous.

With the wind rustling.
And sunlight dappling.
Finally.
They are pronounced.
Husband and wife.

Kissing exuberant.
And we.
Laughing and clapping
and filling full the happy.
An afternoon of joy.

It is a mystery.

And when it happens.

We marvel. 

His girl a tangle of sweet.
And saucy and real.
And we laugh some more.
At the adventure ahead.
For them.

Sharing life.
The real and the funny.
Things we can't hide.
Anymore.
Learning each other.
Foibles and complexities.
Life itself; messy.

But the One who created.

Is front and center.
Of these newly married.

And so the best gifts.

Not on the table.

But in their hearts.

Having discovered years earlier.

His unconditional love.
And His amazing grace.

And the wedding.

In May.

Just a snapshot.
Of things to come.
When all is returned.
To it's former glory.

So.  Certainly.

No need to be nervous.

Just happy.




Thursday, April 30, 2015

But He did

 

 
Everyone wonders.
Why the stuttering fool.
Cannot get over.
The story of grace.

Smacked in the face.
With the wonder of it.
My lack so desperate.
And His love so beyond.

Figuring out.




And the wonder of creation.
Mysteries so stunning; stupefying even.
Things beyond the naked eye.
Photos revealing the heavens.

Star clusters and galaxies.
And reams of color thrown around
like a madman happy and
exuberant and free.
Creating glory and miraculous.

Beauty pointing.

Like a road sign. 




Because every single day.
While distracted with life.
Living daunted.  In our own story.
Sometimes shaken.

There is order. 
Our world governed.  And ruled.
By holy.

Stars in the heavens.
Planets spinning.
Sun coming up.  Setting.
Winter turning to spring.
And the tide going out .
Again.

All under.  His control.

His creation.  His palette.  His art.

Glory. 

And Grace.

And I lift up my eyes to the hills.
And to the heavens.

And every single time.

Smacked in the face.
With the wonder of it.

I never could have thought it all up.

But He did.