I'm sure I've written about my journey to work before. Simply put, it's a west to east, east to west journey, which means that I get to enjoy a little sunrise and sunset each day.
If not full strokes of coloured clouds then there is, at least, a different intensity of light to that of the full blown day. The hues of the rural landscape are more distinct, clouds tend to forming or drifting apart, and the sense of anticipation, of fulfilment or relief at these times easily drowns out the mundanity of just another day.
That is, when I take the time to notice.
At one point in the journey there is a long enough gap in the line of trees to reveal a stretch of valley leading towards my journey's destination. Whenever I gaze over it, it reminds me of a scene from The Shire of Hobbit lore: a patchwork of colour, undulating hills, a hazy distant light. It's inspiring.
And, if you're lucky, as you pass by the canal, there will be just the right mix of fog and sun to create a golden glow, narrowboats look sleeping monsters as you fly by. On the return route you might just spy a lake with the sun glistening in its reflection. Something within beckons to another world far away from the daily commute when I see these things.
But, normally, I'm too lost in my own thoughts to see.
It seems to me that blogging can be a bit like these scenes on my journey. Sure enough there are less interesting things to see as well, but surely everything is worthy of note, if I take the time to see it.
Sometimes life whizzes by at such a pace you forget to notice. It's too easy not to pause and appreciate all those glorious details of life. Sometimes writing is like looking up and out of the window, just to take in the view, before life flies by again.
This year I got married, twice, to the same person. And it's all happened so fast I've barely had a chance to appreciate the amazing things that have happened. But, as I take a moment to take it all in, I'm bedazzled by what God has done in my life, the woman God has given me and the journey we've travelled for us to be together. But, perhaps, if there's time, and you and I both pause long enough, I could share with you some of the delights of this story we're living, and together we can breathe in how sacred life actually is.
If not full strokes of coloured clouds then there is, at least, a different intensity of light to that of the full blown day. The hues of the rural landscape are more distinct, clouds tend to forming or drifting apart, and the sense of anticipation, of fulfilment or relief at these times easily drowns out the mundanity of just another day.
That is, when I take the time to notice.
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| Sunrise over a field by Kimberly Gauthier |
And, if you're lucky, as you pass by the canal, there will be just the right mix of fog and sun to create a golden glow, narrowboats look sleeping monsters as you fly by. On the return route you might just spy a lake with the sun glistening in its reflection. Something within beckons to another world far away from the daily commute when I see these things.
But, normally, I'm too lost in my own thoughts to see.
It seems to me that blogging can be a bit like these scenes on my journey. Sure enough there are less interesting things to see as well, but surely everything is worthy of note, if I take the time to see it.
Sometimes life whizzes by at such a pace you forget to notice. It's too easy not to pause and appreciate all those glorious details of life. Sometimes writing is like looking up and out of the window, just to take in the view, before life flies by again.
This year I got married, twice, to the same person. And it's all happened so fast I've barely had a chance to appreciate the amazing things that have happened. But, as I take a moment to take it all in, I'm bedazzled by what God has done in my life, the woman God has given me and the journey we've travelled for us to be together. But, perhaps, if there's time, and you and I both pause long enough, I could share with you some of the delights of this story we're living, and together we can breathe in how sacred life actually is.
Ah, it's like water to the parched. Love your blog, glad it's back in business. (By the way, 'hobbit' has two B's...) ;-)
ReplyDeleteI'll pause with you. I'll breathe.
ReplyDeleteGot me thinking about fog. Funny how something that usually obscures and chills can be a truly beautiful sight when it's below or a way away. I could do with getting up higher more often.