For Summer.
ALTERNATIVE TITLE: A Beautiful Day
I’ve had another diarist at me for a while to act on a situation in my life. While I’ve been putting her off on that request, she made one I feel compelled to honor. Summer, this one’s for you.
Summer wants me to talk about Beauty. Why I love life. She wants it to be real. I want to start with a beautiful, somewhat typical day here in Colorado, and then I’m going to be more general. This is going to be as real as I can make it.
It begins with a claxon. My alarm clock. I probably turn it off without knowing it. I lay back down, like the rebound from the wakeup, crawl back into the warm covers and cuddle with them. The warmth and the fuzziness in my brain make that 15 seconds before I go back to sleep pure bliss. People think I love sleep. That’s not true. Sleep is valueless, unless you aren’t getting any. I love the 15 seconds between the alarm and falling back into sleep. The world is hazy, the lines don’t match up, the ceiling is just a tope canopy-it has no corners, it has no end. The warmth of the blankets envelop you, and that warmth with the feeling of infinity just a brief step away before you reach out your hand to touch it, and then it’s retreated just beyond your grasp, and you’re asleep.
A while later (either a few minutes or hours later), I crawl out of bed, ignoring the cobwebs and lack of function in my brain, and I walk into the shower. The water cascades over my whole person. There’s not a part it doesn’t find. The water knows me. And again, the warmth. The water gently massages my head, my face, my shoulders. The smell of the shampoo and the soap permeate the little cell. After all the basic jobs are done, I just stand under the streams of water, letting it beat down on me for a few brief seconds before the water gets turned off, and I towel off. I put on clean clothes, probably jeans and a sweater or a fleece. Again, I’m warm. Cozy. The day has started. I walk into the kitchen, and the coffee is ready. I stand over the coffee machine and breath deep the rich fumes of the brewed coffee. I close my eyes, and let my nose do its work. I go to the table, and take an Einstein Brothers bagel out of a box that rests there. I put it in the toaster oven, and pull the shmear out of the refrigerator. The smell of the toasting bagel amalgamates with the brewed coffee to produce it’s own little smell. Breakfast. I go to my living room and look out the window at the sun rising over the rest of Denver. I see the tops of the skyscrapers downtown, watching the light play off the huge panels of glass of the skyscrapers. The beams of light come through the window and play all over the room. A beam of light has fallen in my coffee. Does the light like coffee too? I take a bite of my bagel, and the grain of the bagel and the smooth flavor of the cream cheese fills my mouth. I let it sit in my mouth for a moment, to let my taste buds get their experiences before I chew and swallow. I open my Bible and read briefly while I enjoy my breakfast. Maybe something I like to read in the morning, like Lamentations 3, or Romans 13. After that, I read one of Jesus’ parables, and wonder at what it must have been like to sit at his feet to receive His teachings. What did His disciples think while He taught them? Where they wondering where their next meal would come from? Did they miss their families, and the people they left behind? How much did they trust what Jesus was saying?
After a while, it’s time to go out and be productive. I walk out my backdoor, and I see the snowcapped mountains in the distance. The chill of the day nips at my exposed skin. I zip my jacket, thankful that I wore a sweater and not something thinner. I get in the car, and it jumps to life after its slumber. The frost has painted the windows, and I need to scrape the canvas enough to see where I’m going. I put in some music. Depending on the day, it might vary widely. Today is a Bebo Norman day. He writes songs like I’d write if I had any talent for that kind of thing. The tones of the guitar and voice fill the car. I ease my car into gear, and off to work I go. As I drive, I think about the entire mass of people in motion. I wonder where they are going. Why they’re in such a hurry, and if they would have left the house five minutes earlier, if they’d still need to hurry. I get stuck in traffic, but it’s alright, I left the house fifteen minutes early. I turn up the Bebo, and sing along, letting the people in the other cars look and respond how they will. I arrive at school, whispering a silent prayer that I’ll be responsible and aware and learn all I need to learn today. Then I go to class and get blown away by the professors and my fellow students. Their experience, and the things they know about God are different than mine. I wonder at a God who comes to people in so many different ways. It’s amazing to me how God can be revealed so differently to people, and yet they all seem to agree about who He is. The language is familiar, but always challenging. People talk about needing mercy and grace, and living lives of service, and I just sit enthralled with the whole thing. Most likely, I never say anything in class-I’m too amazed and inspired to speak. I just sit there in total awe. After a time, class is over, and I head home.
(continued, next entry)