The Illumination of Transition

Beauty resides in the transition times

Like early morning
when gentle light creeps over the horizon
sweeping away the dark of night
silently slipping over rooftops and through gates
then suddenly throwing off restraint
golden light bursting forth
illuminating every growing thing

In that moment everything is drenched
in a special quality of light that illuminates
forms, bones, veins
the essential structures of our inner parts
like no other time

We witness a profound transformation in those moments
the ordinary suddenly revealed as extraordinary
It begs us to stop, to soak,
to be illuminated ourselves.


Autumn Garden

Our garden is mostly neglected these days. Our hose was flattened about a month ago (thankfully just before the drought ended) and school and work consume most of my “free” time. The garden is not completely finished yet, though. The collard greens are still going strong and the other day I saw a few small, green tomatoes, sparking some hope that perhaps we’ll still get some fruit from them now that the ground is moist again and the air cooler.

In the east corner of the garden, the sunflowers and Zinnias wear the telltale tinges of autumn brown, though, a subtle proclamation of the change in seasons. I love it, actually. It has its own kind of beauty, different than the vibrant colors of summer. The crisp brown edges carry a certain peace, the beauty of a season ending at just the right time to make way for the next one.

My Weekend (In Case You Wondered)

I started listing off my weekend in paragraph form, but then, this seemed better to capture the feeling of abundance in this season and this weekend in particular:

a short walk down a
leaf-littered sidewalk
crisp underfoot
to a sunny picnic table
an open bible
a half-filled journal
a stack of questions
and a breeze that tumbled
vibrant red leaves
around the slide and
across the lawn

Back home
Applesauce making
juicy hands (and sore wrists)
stirring a simmering pot of
sweetness and spice
and a shiny new pressure canner
(a birthday gift)
hissing and steaming
And while it cooks

Lesson planning and letter writing
twisting long strings of words
around the frame of a full life
folding them into an envelope
to send over seven hundred miles
to my sister sister

That evening
a mini van to a rodeo
and a top row of bleachers
dust churning below us
at the edge of our seat in appreciation
for the majestic strides of the galloping horses
the powerful kicks of the bulls
and the fine art of lassoing a cow
(perhaps less appreciation for
sequins, drawls, and presidential jokes)

early morning drizzle
coffee, prayer, worship
then song singing
playdough making and
treasure hunting with kiddos
with the treasure of Jesus in their hearts

Afternoon drive with the girls
to a pumpkin patch
hillbilly golf and cornhole
(and “tic tac toilet seat for those who dared)
bleating goats and laughing kids
the rumble of a hayride
and chatting in the afternoon sun

Home again
to roast vegetables and
talk homeschooling

collaborative gathering
bearing a savory celebration of fall
pumpkin, chard, cheese, turnips, bread, wine
and laughter
more laughter
rolling deep and often
into the darkness of evening
with the smell of fall through the window
and finally
goodbyes on the porch
bags of pumpkins, pears, apples
(genuine Wisconsin gown)
swinging in hand

And home
to talk of our house and
chat with Abba
about His plans for this family
and finally
reading time with my husband
snuggled under the covers
Harry Potter and hobbits until bedtime

(Normally this is where I would end with an artsy fall photo –  or, more likely, a whole string of photos – but alas, my camera died a couple weeks ago :-( so for now the word pictures will have to do)