In those rhetorical questions where you have to choose which terrible affliction you'd rather bear, I can usually think my way around to a silver lining. I am an optimist, after all, and everyone carries some strain of affliction with them around their world, including me. But if there's one thing I'd hate to have to bear (apart from early or tragic loss of the health of my family, of course) it would be my sense of sight: the ability to witness and experience light and color. They affect my life so.
My gift this morning as I looked up over the crinkly pages of Isaiah 41 was the gradually rising Saturday morning sun, brighter every time I looked up again. Replicating the color in print is all but impossible without backlighting, but don't you think there's a reason for this? I can play around with photographs, capturing looks and light and attitudes and feelings, and playing up the emotion I'm trying to capture with editing techniques. But any given sunrise is perfectly unique, irreplicable, painted fresh each morning, and shifting subtly as you try to catch the essence of it on your memory card.
But a dim reflection.
God has prepared gifts all along the path He's laid before us.
My eyes are open.
Good morning God
This is your day
I am your child
Show me your way.
1 comment:
Beautiful...
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