Last night was like a perfectly
balanced algebra equation. 

We had eaten (a simple, scrumptious
meal of salad, bread and wine) and prayed (for Zimbabwe, for Family Camp this
weekend, for healing, for the neighborhood of the new church, for a struggling
single mom, giving thanks for new babies safely born)  and were sitting in the
solarium on the back of our friends’ house, relaxing, laughing, bantering,
reminiscing.  Jo was home from college, Tim just graduated from high school, the
good father had arrived home  after another day practicing medicine. 

We sat there
enjoying one another. 

Two hummingbirds frequented the feeder, flowers winked at
us, eyes sparkled and danced, and we devoured the visual feast before our eyes. 

Curt and I took turns murmuring our
need to go, but we made no move to leave.  We were settled and at peace. We
lingered, soaking in the goodness of a friendship that spanned many years.  It
was a moment full of grace, full of suspended beauty.  But the glorious melody
of the moment moved forward to the coda, a coda which would bring us to the end of the day. 
Reluctantly, we rose and took our leave.

Outside, daylight was hovering,
peeking over the mountain ridge.  We drove a hundred yards and watched a herd of
50-60 elk move through the tall grass.  They had been crossing the road, but ran
back when we pulled over to watch.  Have you ever seen elk run?
 Their elegance seems impossible with their bulk.  Mama elk
called to their calves; Collin and Curt imitated the calls, but no calves came
running toward us.  We gazed at the groups, multiple parabolas, merging,
dividing, curving, gathering. 

The sweet scent of freshly mown hay wafted from the
adjoining field.  A passing car occasionally interrupted the stillness.  Dusk
descended; distant lights twinkled.  Curt started the car, and we drove home in
companionable silence.  It had been a fine day. 

Maybe I am getting old, but I see
these moments as treasures to cherish. 

It was ordinary prayer group and yet it
was precious.  Our batteries were re-charging, preparing for energy required in
days to come.  We reconnected and agreed that it was very good.  I wanted to
write it down, to keep the memory from dissolving into the air.  I want to
remember this day and to give thanks for it.

He whose heart is
kind beyond all measure

Gives unto each day
what He deems best,

Lovingly its part of
pain and pleasure,

Mingling toil with
peace and rest.

 ~ Lina

* photo from another evening of lingering in York, England


9 thoughts on “Lingering

  1. You’re right–those comfortable, comforting moments of life are very few and should be remembered and cherished. And I do love sunsets, I must say. The photo is beautiful.I have to admit I don’t know what a parabola is. I looked it up and it still didn’t make sense, so I’ve decided it must be something to do with algebra, which I’ve sworn off from remembering anything about. If it is, feel free not to reply/explain!

  2. oh, I love evenings like that.  Thanks for the sharing your experience AND the beautiful picture.BTW, I think you were blessed to go to Europe at the right time.  I have friends that just canceled their Italy plans.  They would have had to spend $12K for the 2 of them for 2 weeks!!  Eek Gads!   They’re taking a trip out west instead.

  3. Carol, you so captured the beauty of the moments, the relationships, and the emotions of your evening, that reading this post was one of those vicarious pleasures mentioned earlier this week. Blessings, Laurie

  4. First off, i am SO glad you got to visit York and the Minster–i loved that place– Secondly, i cannot even imagine living somewhere i could watch elk run! What an amazing gift to receive–the time SOUNDS peaceful, the way you described it, and reminded me of last night. The sun was glowing vivid orange on the leaves of the poplar tree out back, and i watched, mesmerized, as the orange traced its way through the tree and spilled across the floor of the room where i sat. Simple things can be so wonderful, i was reminded of the miracles of what the Creator has made. Thanks for sharing your day–it was like a relaxation session.

  5. I know that door. And I have begun to know the value of those golden moments. Thank you for sharing yours and thank you also for the reminder to continue to pray for Zimb. I love you sweet sister. M in SC

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