It’s come to this. I’m taking photos of my son’s shower curtain. Captivated by Light that casts glowy shadows in the rooms of my house.
Last year, I knew this kindred Psalm. Every word revealing a tributary on the face of my open palm:
I am weary with my moaning;
every night I flood my bed with tears;
I drench my couch with my weeping.
My eye wastes away because of grief;
it grows weak because of all my foes.
(Psalm 6:6-7 ESV)
And finding simple beauty, like the way the light filters through a shower curtain, it’s what drew me back into joy. Sound crazy? Maybe you should try it.
At twilight, I push my high heels through freshly cut field wearing a new top. Sit in a borrowed zebra chair positioned next to a candelabra on a wide expanse of sodden stage; the trees our opening curtain. And while the shutter blinks, I’m pleading with God under my breath about the stalkers, grey hatted overhead. “Please blow them away,” I beg.
And just when our hands begin to look like cherry popsicles, I see reflection of answered prayer flickering on the lens. A golden orb peeking through a wiry field of barren branches, flashing a hesitant smile before pulling up her evening covers.
“Oh, the light is so beautiful,” we sing.
And suddenly the cold doesn’t matter anymore. We’re just captivated by the way He surprises with answers. Trying to capture what only the eyes can see; what the heart can truly behold.
When was the last time you were captivated by something ordinary?
If you’ve meandered around here over the past few weeks, you’ve read about how I’ve started to practice true Sabbath and invited you to join me in the quest of renewal and peace. Taking time to stop and see among the busy and mundane minutiae of life. And honestly, what God is doing among us, fifty of us now, well, it’s blowing me away.
I hope you’ll come back and join us as we begin to slow down and see this weekend. It all started here. If you’re interested in joining the sisterhood – Surrendering to Sabbath Society – send me an email: firstname.lastname@example.org.
Linking with Imperfect Prose with the word prompt: Light.