Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Take Your Camera Outside

On one line, the other rang, a message left, a call returned, with the added bonus: take your camera outside.  Hurry.

Ending the other call, I grabbed my cell (turned off) with camera in one hand, house phone in the other, and scurried outside, hitting the cell on button with the one hand, dialing back the friend with the other as I scooted outside, impatiently telling the cell (which takes forever in this time of instant access) to hurry up and come on, as my friend answered her phone.

Where is it? I ask.

Sorry.  It’s gone.  You missed it.  The setting sun lit up the whole sky.

There were traces of glory.  Bits and pieces, leftovers on the table of God’s sky.  Clouds and light of the sun from behind the mountains bidding its quiet farewell for the night.

I felt not impoverished but enriched for it having been there.

Sure trees make noise whether I’m there to hear them or not.

And sunsets leave fingerprints whether my eyes behold them or not.

And it is glory abounding.

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