Questions

I stare up at the clouds that fly silver, cobalt, purple, magenta, like wings off the setting sun already tucked behind the hills. Venus is there, sparkling in her white dress, straight out to the west. Yesterday, she was northwest. The day before, southwest. I wonder at this, realizing how little I know of the earth's spin and the skies spin around her. Why don't the stars march slowly up and down the horizon like the sun in her seasons? Why does the moon set at a different time every night? So little I know, just a tiny bit of trivia about this grand earth and life. So much I want to learn with my children. When I am old, I want to understand these mystical stars.


I remember younger years when all the things I hadn't experienced yet weighed heavy, and I desperately wanted to live so I could do these things. Marriage. Babies. A home. A career. A spiritual life. I am not old yet, but I have felt the kiss of the sun in the springtime and learned how Jesus sings in the breeze; I have painted the hills with wildflower seeds scattered and seen a hummingbird perch on the long grass. I have heard the laughter lilting from my children's mouths, and I've felt my husband's eyelids crinkle beneath my cheek as he smiles. I know now that birthing a baby is the hardest work and the greatest joy, that pain in the soul is harsher than pain in the body. I've lost friends, lovers, grandparents, loved ones. I've lost the mirage that life goes on forever. But in the beautiful in-between, I've found a life I never imagined in the hush of the everyday. I've danced to music no one else can hear, I've sung songs I never wrote down, I prayed prayers without words, I've broken and I've been rebuilt, and this beautiful mosaic that is almost-33 is more than I ever asked for.

And still so many questions, and a myriad of hidden joys to be discovered. How many years would be enough? My soul whispers of the immortal Garden, walking with God through the verdant pathways. Only eternity is enough. I sigh, and look up at Venus again, high above the sooty hills, and I think about her singing with the constellations a tune only God himself can hear. And so my soul groans, happy and full this time, a song without words to a Creator without end.

Linked to Lisa Jo at the Gypsy Mama