Some one-hundred-twenty years ago, men went out in a field and found each and every stone and set them in place. There are thousands of them. There are tan and gray rocks. Some dark brown and black. Many are large and stinkin' heavy! And as if one wall wasn't enough, they built two walls--an inner wall and an outer wall. I basically live in a fortress! In the mornings the light is just perfect for studying the rocks--with their unique shapes and colors--and imagining the lives of those who laid each one.
When we first considered making a change--moving from the river to this old building--one of my hesitations was that there wasn't enough light here.
I love light.
I need light.
The space is long and narrow with windows at each end--one end facing west and one end facing east. The living area where I sit with coffee this morning, and now most every morning, faces west. Yet every morning when I pour my coffee and go to the couch, the room is drenched in sunlight.
It faces west.
Here's the cool part.
The glorious morning light that fills our space is first received by a glass window across the street from us and reflected back to us through our windows. A gift being shared.
This light that makes me happy.
This light that allows me to sip my coffee and study my rock wall--something I had never pictured myself doing, but hey! It's actually very calming and thought-provoking in its own way. You need only be alarmed if in the future I write about the rock wall speaking to me. Then it's "Houston, we have a problem". But right now, no voices! All's good.
This gift of light got me thinking. About reflecting light.
Sometimes we can't find the light. ANYWHERE. And we need it--oh how we need it!
It's like there's this beautiful sunrise happening in the east. We know it. We can imagine it. We've seen it before, but this time we're facing west and missing the whole miraculous thing. We can't seem to turn to face it. Our bodies won't budge.
But then it happens!
A visit from a friend.
A voice on the phone.
A funny photograph.
A scripture with a hand-written note beside it.
A dog chasing its tail.
The giggles of a little child.
An unexpected bear hug.
A "hello" and smile from a stranger.
Givers of light! Sharers.
Reflecting light back to us--reminding us that God loves us and sees us and knows us.
So this morning I'm reminded of that. And I'm challenged.
Because today somebody in my path needs some light. And I just happen to have some to share.
|shared light. (no filter)|