when the sun goes down
This is beautiful:When the sun goes below the horizon he is not set; the heavens glow for a full hour after his departure. And when a great and good man sets, the sky of this world is luminous long after he is out of sight. Such a man cannot die out of this world. When he goes he leaves behind him much of himself. Being dead, he speaks.
-- Lyman Beecher (I think … I know it’s someone Beecher)
Last night as I sat with four tired young men and watched the sky softly fade from blue to a pinkish purple to a drab gray, I thought about life. More specifically, I thought about my life. There have been incredible changes in the past year or two. If anyone had asked me several years ago, as I sat on the porch of a huge rambling house in upstate NY, where I would be on May 31, 2006, I never would have guessed that I would be hanging out with a group of ragamuffin boys at a home in North Carolina. There is no way I would have ventured to say that I would be spending a couple nights a week scratching up my legs playing capture the flag in the woods, or thrown into awkward conversations about girls and kissing and whether or not girls like guys with facial hair.
The past year and a half has found me in unchartered territory. I emerge from this journey with scars and scrapes and many lessons learned. In the past 16 months: I moved 12 hours away from everyone and everything familiar to me; I learned to find joy in little things like children falling asleep in my lap while watching a movie, and I learned the pain of watching a little person hurt and not being able to do anything to stop the crying; I experienced the privilege of being able to learn of a person’s need for something as simple as diapers for her newborn baby, and having the means with which to meet it; I grew strong from shouldering the weight of a struggling ministry as it tumbled and staggered beneath the crashing waves of hypocrisy and pride; I found humility and refreshment in the process of being broken apart so that God could shape me into a newer and better vessel for His use; I discovered the incredible richness of entering into conversations with strangers and establishing bonds and ties that will live forever in my heart; I felt my heart come alive again as I stood alone on a desolate beach and shared with my Creator the magic of a sun rising over the ocean; I allowed myself to be wooed and romanced as I wandered night after night underneath a starlit sky and listened to the cicadas’ beautiful rhythmic refrains; I crossed paths with a kindred soul and found the journey even more beautiful as I walked alongside him, sharing the beauty and awe and glory of the miracle of this life; I was lulled to sleep by the sound of a steady river and the comfort of strong arms and a heart beating steadily in time with my own; I was struck with wonder again at the magic and excitement of a first kiss, a second kiss, and a third kiss … ; I moved again, this time 3 hours away from a few familiar friends; I learned to find joy in little things like pillow fights and awkward hugs from teenage boys; I witnessed the radiance of true love as I watched a frail man faithfully sit beside his beautifully aging wife with a sparkle in his eyes and a selflessness that caused me to feel shame; I experienced anew what it means to share others’ pain, as God revealed others’ deep wounds to me and somehow used me to bring some healing; I felt the joyful exhaustion that comes from working from sunrise to midnight, energized in the knowledge that I was finally doing something that was touching the futures of other people; I taught myself how to be strong again after having learned the secret of being weak; I found family in complete strangers; I learned to embrace painful moments with a joyful heart; I discovered again how beautiful and precious I am to the One that knows me better than any other; I moved again into a neighborhood that felt like home the first time I entered it; I clambered over cultural barriers to build clumsy relationships with precious souls who bring a smile to my heart; I finally learned what it is to really love another person and expect nothing in return, and the searing pain and indescribable joy that come with that process; I realized that a day is never long enough for me to do all that is in my heart to do, and that I never want it to be … I could keep going and going … but this past 16 months has been incredible.
As I approach the celebration of another year of my life, I do so with an expectant heart. I’m not sure how this coming year will possibly top this past year, but I am so excited to see what lies ahead. The quote at the beginning of this post is so beautiful to me. Last night as I watched the sky grow dark, I know that the sun had already “set” … but those colors lingered as a reminder of all that the day held. This is what I long for my life to be – I long for the colors of my life to linger in the minds of other people. As I leave behind one day or one place or one person, I want some part of me to remain there, living on in some way … and I want that piece of me that stays to be full of beauty, love, wonder, awe, and God.
I recently read a quote by Victor Hugo … in case you don’t recognize the name, he’s the author of Les Miserables – INCREDIBLE book (or really, books). It’s a good ending, I think. At the time that Hugo spoke these words, he was over 80 years old:
I feel in myself the future life. I am like a forest which has been more than once cut down. The new shoots are livelier than ever. I am rising toward the sky. The sunshine is on my head. The earth gives me its generous sap, but Heaven lights me with its unknown worlds.
You say the soul is nothing but the resultant of the bodily powers. Why, then, is my soul more luminous when my bodily powers begin to fail? Winter is on my head, but eternal spring is in my heart. I breathe at this hour the fragrance of the lilacs, the violets, and the roses as at twenty years. The nearer I approach the end the plainer I hear around me the immortal symphonies of the worlds which invite me. It is marvelous, yet simple.
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