Sunset over the refuge -

I was driving home from the wildlife refuge in January. I'd spent more than a few hours taking pictures of wildlife and nature, and it was cold outside, and I was full of the joy of it all. I pulled to the stop sign and looked down the road towards home. Towards the river and the water, and all that I know so well. The sunset took over in my camera viewfinder, and I spent a few minutes just taking memory stock of it.

The power lines really drew my attention, how they come along, and just go ahead and then....they all clump together and sort of disappear....not one, not several, just a whole bunch that you can't really see, because it's dark ahead, and the sun is setting. You think that if you don't drive as fast, you can focus more on the lines, you can look at them and they won't loop up and down and make you sick.

But in the end, you have to really focus on the road, so you won't have a wreck. You can't spend time wishing you could fly over those lines and over all the water, and just get home faster, because your engine is idling, and you were here to fulfill joy. You can't gaze at the sunset too long because it will set soon, and then the moon will come up, and then the sun will come again, and your days will go just as quick, and wishing your days go slower doesn't make them that way. Wishing you could get to Heaven faster doesn't make it happen. Wishing Home was easier to gain doesn't make it so.

But it gives my heart so much comfort, when my flesh and heart fail in grief, when my eyes pour oceans of never-ending pain down my face, and heart-wrending sobs remind me of the loss,
that "the path He trod He has hallowed", and it is up to my eyes and my heart to find that "lingering fragrance and hidden strength in the remembrance of Him".

Because He is here. He is with me in my grief. He is with you in your grief.

~ Jean Marie ~

(you can read the full quote at the bottom of this blog)