The days grow shorter.
Earth quietly follows her scheduled course, slowly revolving around sun–mindless to my morning shuffling, this blind groping in the dark.
Dark as it is, the sun comes quickly. She blinds me as she races by, eager to return to horizon-bed…taking warm glow, leaving only memory of light.
And I am left wondering where the day has gone.
The trees have almost shed their last, the cold is seeping in. This morning, I saw the snow birds back at the feeder. Timorous flashes of gray and white gave my heart a leap. Already? I wondered.
In the meadow, squirrels gather, rabbits retreat, and all of nature yawns …preparing for long winter sleep.
My body also longs to respond to this tilting away from the sun.
I am slowing too.
Morning begs me to sit in the bay a while–watch as dawn drops her heavy cloak. The stars blink out one by one, as that hurried sun peeks up out of reds and blues and oranges. It feeds me and makes me hunger both.
Early evening, too, calls me into stillness.
Last night, as the boys took in their music lessons, Lucy Mae and I walked around the twinkling streets of South Charleston. We peeked in the window of the antique shop, enjoyed the aroma of Thai cuisine, nodded to the fine ladies at the tea house, and scaled the Indian burial mound. I marveled as, the higher we drew, the more my feet disappeared beneath. The dark spread out like a blanket, enveloped us as we climbed. I could smell the faint breath of wood smoke and the coming winter in the air up there. I leaned over the edge at the top and wondered at the vertigo.
We tilt and spin through time and space and still we stand steady–oblivious to the pull of the moon and tug of gravity beneath us.
But I am spinning at the wonder in it all–the perfect tilt of axis…the perfect place in space. The predictable pattern earth follows around the sun yields these magnificent changes in the air around me and I cannot…
I cannot find beauty in my predictable today.
And I know it is only those fraternal twins, centrifugal and centripetal force, that keep me in place as I go round and round.
The inertia caused by these forces pressing against each other is pressing down on me, making it difficult to breath. This circular motion I am moving in feels like a chain weighing me down and I. Cannot. Move. I cannot break free. I need an outside force to break this cycle.
Sir Isaac Newton…help, please?
As we descend I can feel the atmosphere thicken again–I fall down to earth. It is still autumn down here. My boys await their carriage. As they run to me, heart rises to throat. One has guitar clumsily banging legs…the other clutches drumsticks tightly. Faces glow, and I know the lessons were good. I smile, hug slim shoulders, kiss tops of heads (well, the side of Teddy’s–he’s so tall now!).
Lucy Mae sniffs around a bush. We pile in minivan and head home, the light of love shining through the darkness of this season.
Nothing has changed.
Except my mind. Except my heart.
Outside Force reaches in, colors my heart beautiful.
He is The Force. He is The Cure for inertia.
Only He can change a heart.
No other remedy will do.
Oh, won’t you give Him the praise? Won’t you give Him the glory?