A Peach is Worth a Thousand Words
Summer time is here with a blazing fury. Temperatures up. Windows rolled down. Rolling along with blues on the radio.
Somehow that low steady beat underneath and all kinds of fun and mischief floating across the top of it suits me just fine this morning.
Long Tall Deb and the Drifter Kings sing “House on Fire” and sun fills the car catching on every surface and slinging out ย pulsing beats of light.
It is a good morning. I’m on my way to a day full of conversation about work that I adore with people I admire and respect. It is one of those moments when I feel the full sun of joy and a streak of ridiculous happiness. The shadows of grief and loss are there but don’t preoccupy my mind.
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A couple days later one of my pastors reveled in the joy of tasting a South Carolina peach. First of the season. She said there’s nothing like it. My mouth waters at the thought. ย It is the first Sunday of a dozen when our other pastor and her family are on sabbatical. A much needed rest, and time of tending to loss. But on this Sunday morning we are focused on the light. And we sing, “Be wild, O my soul, for the Source of Wonder, let all that I am praise the Name. Be wild, O my soul, for the Source of Wonder, let me not forget all your care.” ย The shadows of grief and loss are there but don’t preoccupy my mind.
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Where is the third scene? Last summer. I sit on my back porch and try to paint a peach. I mix the reds and ochers . Add layers of watercolor, then speckles, deepening shadows around the stem. I can’t really capture it. I try but the colors and paper simply won’t let me. It is far beyond my skill. Yet in my attention focused on creation I am rested. With concentration on the task I am lost in wonder. As always, the shadows of grief and loss are there but don’t preoccupy my mind.
Be wild, O my soul.
Reach out and sing.
Ripe in a moment while the sun shines.
For the Source of Wonder lives here.
