The light has come!
After months of overcast skies and "almost" rains and general dullness of weather, the sun is back.
I run through the house with camera in hand, trying to catch it everywhere I see it.
A sliver of light here, a bar of light there, a splash of light on a wall or floor, and suddenly the room is changed into a shining scene of beauty.
I feel like a dusty cup left too long on an upper shelf that has suddenly been rinsed out and filled with the golden liquid of the sun.
My heart sings with the beauty that seems to slip into every tiny space, filling nooks and corners until they glow.
The ordinary becomes extraordinary;
the dull becomes bright;
the everyday becomes hallowed;
the empty becomes full.
The light seems to pierce my very being, opening my eyes to the cobwebs I've let accumulate in my mind, the stiffness I've let settle into my limbs.
The light makes the ugly beautiful,
the old new,
the sad happy,
the monotony a celebration,
and the routine dazzling.
The quiet places sing,
and the loud places hush.
Everything becomes a canvas,
and the Master washes it with the colors of Himself.
When surrounded by darkness, it is easy to forget how amazing light is.
It rushes in, creeps in, sneaks in, pushes in, cuts in.
And once it gets in?
The darkness must flee.
This sun is a daily reminder of the one true Light.
Art hung in the sky, surrounded today by the stiffest blue and the crispest white, to turn my mind to my Creator.
It softens the hardest scene;
it lightens the darkest hole;
it strengthens the weakest hand;
it gives hope to the doubting soul.
My mind and heart are quieted within me.
Could there really be a more beautiful way to describe our God than the Light of the World?
At this moment, I think not.