these days i wish i was a photographer- an artist gifted to capture the meaning of color, speak the language of light and shadow. i walk down the same roads and trails daily. i try to memorize each branch and leaf, but everything is constantly shifting with the progression of Autumn and the sun’s movement through the sky.
the morning is clear and cool. sunlight floats in the haze over fields of dewy, fading wildflowers. i tuck my hands inside my sleeves, search for the sunny side of every road to warm my cheeks and nose. the smell of Fall is different in these early hours – more clean grass and air, less fallen leaf and dirt.
the afternoon shoots sunbeams like arrows through changing leaves- the greens are breathtaking, though less lauded this time of year. they shine quietly and then graciously yield to the brilliance of the much anticipated Fall Color.
evening brings a soft light angling across the grass and filters into my windows. just before sunset, the maples lining our driveway ring out like vesper bells- the perfect note to end the day. they invite me to sing along with them.
and i want to sing- to laugh out loud as i run into that light, arms open, face upturned to feel those final drips of warmth- joining the trees’ chorus as the sun disappears with a sigh behind the mountain. can i breathe in the life of these moments? can i capture it? can i feast on this air and light so it is in me, so it is mine?
i take a picture with my phone- a feeble attempt to hold onto all the glory. it doesn’t work. even as i see the image in my hand, it is falling away- leaving me behind.
i can’t hold it.
why do i feel this urgency to grab the beauty of this moment- to possess it? to inhale this feeling with deep, gulping breaths? it’s as if this golden, glowing day belongs to me- belongs in me- and it has escaped. i can’t breathe in enough, can’t soak in enough to recover it, but i know it’s mine.
it is mine. i know i’m created for this exact instant, this place. these are moments, even in my fragile state, that i am with God. i’m made to be here with Him. and this is how He reminds me of who i really am.
the path is soft with fallen pine needles and all around is a celebration of turning leaves. they are swishing and clapping for me, and i remember that rain of rose petals as we ran together, bride and groom, laughing and holding hands.
i smile and raise my face toward the Light, bright leaves falling all around me, decorating the trail like the aisle before the bride… is it You? is that why i want this so deeply?
and He says, “yes, My Beloved.”