I Have a Theory

Today is Friday; it is the day a community of writers set a timer, take a prompt and write. It is an opportunity to spill unedited thoughts across the blogosphere for better or worse. I'm working toward that five-minute limit; I can't seem to corral my thoughts before the timer dings. But I know this is a community of grace and encouragement, and blessed fellowship. The Five-Minute Friday links can be found here. They are always worth the time to read. Today's prompt? Green.

I have a theory about Fall color.

No, it isn't scientific. It isn't provable or quantifiable. It doesn't lend itself to experimentation. It really doesn't sit well in a world of measurement and precision.

In fact, it kind of leans toward the romantic. As in Romanticism. As in the art and literary movement of the first half of the nineteenth century -- with its emphasis on imagination and emotion as opposed to the Enlightenment values of reason and order. Yes, I had to look up the definition - thank you very much to the Metropolitan Museum of Art...

I adore the colors of Fall. I love to watch as the leaves turn, day by day, from deep, summer green to frosted tips of bright yellow and orange, to full-on sunbursts across the spectrum of warm - red, pink, neon brilliance. Just like Paris has it's fashion parades, the trees have theirs; and God, the designer outdoes himself. Season after season. Year after year.

Did you know that the colors we see are actually the reflection of the colors in an object? Light comes in waves. Objects either absorb or reflect those waves. The lightwaves that are reflected back to our eyes, are the colors we see. So when we call a leaf green, we are actually calling it by the color it does NOT contain, by the color it has reflected.

Interesting, right?

So, here's my theory about Fall color. We see green leaves all summer because the leaves are busy absorbing all of the warmth of the summer sun. Not just the warmth, but the warm colors. The reds, the oranges, the yellows. These are being banked, like a savings account, for the future.

And the future is Fall. These amazing colors we see, this cacophony of show-off brilliance, is that savings account.

It is the trees giving back the sunlight of summer.

But what if the future wasn't Fall, but was the future of God's Kingdom. The one Isaiah spoke about: the Glory of Zion? What if Fall color is God's promise to us, like the rainbow, of our future with him? God made the light. He made the trees. He designed the colors of Fall. Why not remind us of the day when He will be our everlasting light and glory.

The sun will no more be your light by day,

nor will the brightness of the moon shine on you,

for the Lord will be your everlasting light,

and your God will be your glory.

Isaiah 60:19 (NIV)

We Are God's

For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

Ephesians 2:10

The promise of Fall

Concealed tenderly inside  

A summer acorn

Young, not yet hardened
Perfectly formed masterpiece
Like a nestled star

Autumn is coming

I think the leaves are

Banking the sun-colored hues

For a last hurrah

Shades of red and gold
Sultry-warm, a feast of light
In the foliage

Autumn is coming

But now an acorn
Summered protectively green
Perfectly seasoned

Once upon a time, a young girl lived with her family.  Moving with the seasons, finding work where they could, the family did not have a place they could call their own.  They were migrant.  And they were poor.  

But the young girl didn't know this.  She smiled and laughed with her fellow workers, with her sisters and brothers in the field.  She went to school when she could, and she went to church on Sundays.  She liked her simple life.

One day, she saw a notice posted in the work shed.  

Donate your clothes to the poor. 

Oh!  She thought to herself, how selfish of me.  She berated herself for never having given the poor a second thought.  She felt so rich in her own life that she had not noticed there were some without.  

She convinced her sisters to help her collect clothes to donate.  They sifted through their own belongings.  Only the best, she thought, because a gift isn't a gift if it isn't already loved.  She and her sisters left their bag of clothes outside of the work shed, under the posted sign.  

And they continued to work.  To sing.  To laugh.  They lived in fellowship.

On Christmas morning, an anonymous delivery was made to the young girl's family.  It was a bag of clothes.

Oh!  She thought, as she and her sisters opened the bag that they, themselves, had gathered and donated.  Oh! We are the poor...

Heavenly Father, help us to see what needs to be seen, to hear what needs to be heard.  Help us to be sensitive to those we are trying to help.  Father, infuse us with wisdom for today and for tomorrow, for this season and the next.  We are your handiwork.   

Linking with #TellHisStory, Three Word Wednesday, Jack of All Trades

Autumn's Canvas

My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.

When can I go and meet with God?

Psalm 42:2

Rain fell yesterday -

Slick acrylic-leafed luster

Like modge podge on trees.

Fathomless color,

Swimming in translucent light

On Autumn's canvas.

God is the artist

Of this watercolor world

I, too, thirst for Him.

God in Heaven, Artist of our lives, thank you for the rain, yesterday, and the reminder that You are always present, sovereign, life-giving, and good.

Linking with:

Unite

Titus 2 Tuesday
A Bowl Full of Lemons
Teach Me Tuesdays

Friendship of God Upon My Tent

...as I was in my autumn days, when the friendship of God was upon my tent;

Job 29:4

I can feel it coming.  The air is cooler in the morning, the early, early morning, before the sun, before the birds.  It refreshes.  Like a tall glass of water, droplets condensed like pearls on the outside.  Sipping cool.  This air, this time is meant to be sipped.  Savored.  Enjoyed.

The dogwood trees are changing, losing the brilliant green of summer, the rich verdant-velvet cloak they've worn since the crucifixion-of-spring petals dropped away.  Between the leaves are new berries, some still green, but turning.  Changing daily to a rich, robust red, the color a harbinger of refinement to come.  The leaves themselves are rusting, slowly, like slate steps in mist.  Steps leading through the passage of time.

I, too, am changing  I can feel it coming.  Easily persuaded to watch the rites of Spring - memories of my own participation vivid, yet distant.   The effervescence, the exuberant movement of the youth.  Elastic.  Vibrant.  Noisy.  Full of joy.  I savor this sip of time.

I savor the time of summer, too.  The time of maturity, responsibility, love and parenthood.  Thirst quenched by summer rains of rich blessings, family gatherings, and friends.

Autumn is almost upon us.  Almost upon me.  Rich in color, refreshing and cool.  Peaceful.  Leaves let go of the branches that hold them.  Let go and fall, freely, to rest quietly on the ground.  Still.  Like God's hand, cushioning sound and seed, blanketing, protecting.  I feel the friendship of God.

In his suffering, Job looked back at the blessings he had once taken for granted; his wealth, the ease of his life, respect from old and young, rich and poor.  In his memories, he didn't the know the trials his future was to hold.  We don't know the trials our futures will hold.  But we know our God and He knows us.  We know our Jesus, who died so we could call Him ours.  Job suffered.  In the midst of his suffering, in the midst of his pain, he got down on his knees and praised God.  Amazing love!  In the midst of crying out to God in his pain, he called on the name of Jesus.  I know that my Redeemer lives!  Amazing grace!

Time passes; it circles; it folds upon itself again and again.  Seasons.  On earth as in heaven.  Seasons in the year.  Seasons in our lives.  Seasons in Jesus.  Seasons in eternity.  We are born.  We grow.  We laugh, we cry, we change.   Today, I thank God for his friendship upon my tent.  I thank God for seasons.

Father God, thank you for helping us to grow in You.  Thank you for changes.

Linking With Encourage One Another

Trees

Be glad, O people of Zion,

rejoice in the Lord your God,

for He has given you

the autumn rains in righteousness.

He sends you abundant showers,

both autumn and spring rains, as before.

The threshing floors will be filled with grain;

the vats will overflow with new wine and oil.

Joel 2: 23-24

I wasn't always a bible reader. Raised with church, pastors in the family - you'd think I'd be a regular thumper and quoter. But I'm not. Sometimes wish I was, though. The pictures are more of my continuing obsession with Fall. I just haven't lived in a place with four seasons for a long time - guess I hadn't realized how much I miss them - the seasons. I hope ALL of them, because Winter is coming...

There was a time when I denied the existence of God - or trivialized Him - into one of many...probably invented by the needier of mankind. Now I thank Him every day for his mercy and grace! I guess it's easy to not see the obvious when you are continually surrounded by it.

It takes me about 30 minutes to drive to my school everyday. About a third of the drive is on winding two-lane roads through a rural-suburban landscape. About a third of the drive is on a four-to-six-lane road - through the heart of the county government complex, past a Walmart, and the turn-off to the county landfill. About a third of the drive is on a six-lane freeway flanked by forty- to sixty-foot trees. The whole drive is through trees - oak, elm, poplar, pine, maple, crepe myrtle, dogwood. Beautiful. Bountiful. Sometimes I think I probably shouldn't be driving; I find myself staring more at the trees than the road...

Here's the thing. When I took this job, I was asked if the drive would be an 'issue'. Would I resent having to spend thirty minutes in travel? I was confused at the questions - how could I resent such a visual feast? Then I realized - it wasn't a visual feast for those who've lived here all their lives. I'm not sure they see the trees anymore. The drive that I look forward to every day is just one more trip down a concrete highway to them...

Years ago - growing up in a church-going household - I took still waters and green pastures for granted. So much for granted that I stopped believing in the Kingdom of God. I simply denied it's existence. My path was from point A to point B - on a concrete highway. I didn't see the trees. The destination was key - not the journey.

What an empty place that was! As difficult as the circumstances were that brought me back to God, I am thankful for them! He is growing me - strengthening me. ...Yea, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me... We are meant to go through those hard times - that Valley. He leads us there and then guides us through. Like the seasons. Like trees.

Oh God - Creator of the universe - thank you for trees!

Desktop

I've been taking pictures lately because I just can't seem to get enough of the fall colors around here.  I love looking at the trees...then I love looking at the spaces between the trees - leaves from the other side...  Then I get fascinated with the objects around me - steps and bricks.  With camera in hand, I swear I'm having focusing issues.  Oh!  Not with the camera - with my own attention span.  I keep changing my personal desktop because these pictures are SO MUCH FUN!  Anyway, I just opened a Flickr account so I can share - I think you can pull a copy from Flickr - the pics are already formatted for 'display'.  Let me know what you think!  Here's the link:  http://www.flickr.com/photos/chrysanthalea/