dusk is my favorite time of the day.
right when the sun is setting, and the sky can’t quite decide what color it should be. on a good night, swirls of pink and blue and yellow, as evening takes over. and everything feels…different. the air is still, and there’s a peace that goes beyond sense on our otherwise busy street. mr. johnny and mrs. sarah are already inside, ready for bed. claire and henry are eating dinner, and taking baths, and while i know there’s lots of activity going on inside that house next door, outside, it is quiet. and breathtaking.
and so i water the flowers, and i stop to think, and marvel, in the beauty of silence. of stillness. of rest, in a very busy week. of a stolen moment of solitude. and in flowers that should be dead in this july heat, but that are holding on to life – and even wildflowers that have shot up, and against all odds, are reaching towards the heavens, pinks and purples alike.
and so i take a moment just to…be.
do you ever have moments like that? where the world seems to stop, and in that moment, it’s just you, and the flowers, and the sunset, and the stillness of the night air? a moment where you feel very small in the bigness of everything else, but very grateful for another day lived, even with the hard things.
today someone asked me where i see myself in ten years. for the first time, i didn’t have an answer.
i can say what i’d hope to be doing in ten years. what i’d love to be true. but over the last few months of my life, it seems that God has been slowly peeling my very tight fingers off of my plans and my dreams, to give me something else.
more of Himself.
and i am overwhelmed at the smallness of my life, and the bigness of everything else, and that i am only a speck – but yet a speck for whom Christ died. who is being redeemed.
and maybe that is what this is all about, in the end. recognizing the pain and the changed plans and the unknown, while scary, can also be a good fertile place for something unexpected to grow. just like those wildflowers. for redemption and change, and being conformed to the image of the Son, even as those old dreams die and new ones are being born.
so in the quiet, with the flowers, i sit and wait, in the stillness of the dusk and the silence of the shadows. in anticipation of not knowing what is ahead. in trusting that my Father is so much wiser than i am.
i don’t know where i will be in ten years. but for now, that doesn’t seem to matter. just today, and this night, and these people, and this life, and this home. and there’s more ahead, i’m sure, because he really has always been faithful. and probably more heartache, too, since that’s the way life is.
but for now, there is the stillness of the dusk, and flowers, and the pink of the sunset, and the quietness of the air, and a sense of knowing that God is in control, and that tonight, that is enough.