Photo and Commentary ©2023 by Shelley Schurch
Sunday, June 25, 2023
As we walked through our neighborhood last night we came upon this tree, almost dissected in half by a vertical shadow. I looked behind me and saw the sun was shining straight at the tree, but a street light was directly in its path, casting the shadow. The view made me smile, so I clicked my camera to capture it and we kept walking.
A few minutes later another tree caught my eye, for the opposite reason. There are no shadows here. The two vertical streaks you see on this tree trunk almost look like sap running down the bark, but it’s something more momentary than sap – it’s light! This time there is a fence close behind us, with vertical boards, and the sun is shining through two cracks, creating sun streaks.
When we passed by this tree fifteen minutes later, there was no sign of sun on the bark. If we’d revisited the first tree, the shadow would probably have vanished, too. Light and shadow appear, shift, and disappear. Their behavior is predictable and thus somehow comforting.
But last night I was grieving for two people, unrelated to each other and many miles apart, who died this past week. Each one was well-loved by family and a multitude of friends who now deal with the shattering shift from presence to absence.
I needed more than patterns of light and shadow to comfort me. I needed beauty.
On this same walk last night we passed by a neighbor’s yard which has no grass, only flowers. All flowers, lots of flowers. At the moment, mostly roses. I cannot walk by this generous garden without pausing to gaze, and sniff, and admire. Whenever our neighbor is working in his garden we thank him for providing such beauty for so many people.
Tonight as I grieve, I also give thanks for the lives of these two people, who so freely shared their gifts and love with family and friends. And I give thanks to our God, beauty-creator and comfort-giver. He is the giver of all good gifts, including the people in our lives.
Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. (James 1:17 NIV)
Every loss reminds me of heaven, the place of no mores. No more loss, absence, pain, sorrow, death. But between here and there, between now and then, we are not left alone to muddle through. We have the promise of God’s love and presence with us, always with us.
As we step out into this brand-new week, take courage and comfort in His compassionate companionship.