11th Moanin' of Christmas

February 28, 2000

Greetings from the Third Planet,

92 million miles from here, the sun is boiling and surging with energy, giving off light that travels across the dead space between the planets at 186,282 miles per second.  Light makes its way without sound, as far as I know, and roughly 8 minutes and 19 seconds later arrives at my house.  Special delivery.

Light arrives a little earlier in my day recently, creeping across the tops of the trees, spreading onto the lawn.  It makes tiny shadows on the stippled finish of the cement in the driveway, larger shadows from the mounds of dirt left by enterprising moles in the yard.  In the dull light of false dawn, I can see the toys left in the yard last fall, the flotsam of my family. 

The light steals into the boys room, urging them awake, teasing them to come out, soon Spring and Summer will be here.  They are not tempted.  Katherine is nudged awake, but not moving yet.

This week the sun brought an extra ration of warmth.  No special occasion.  The snow gave way to the higher power, retreated into the crevices and valleys, leaving only a few dirty remnants in the low shadowed places.  Our children bubbled out of the house to bask in the warmth, experiment in coatless glee on  bicycles and swings. 

Yesterday the light poured down into our church, onto the upturned faces of our children and others, as they acted out the message this week.  Light glistened in the tears of proud parents watching. 

The sun comes and goes from our line of sight in different ways.  Some days, partnered with clouds, it is more subtle, the light is filtered slowly into our day, sauntering along so we hardly notice its arrival.  Other mornings the sun changes the dark blue sky into brilliant day with a "ta-daaa!", bursting into sight on the horizon, making colors and textures so sharp brings water to your eyes to look at them.

I love mornings.  I rarely miss the coming of the day, the little one act play the sun puts on each morning. 

The rest of the day the sun is at work, showing us where things are, occasionally taking a break to give us a little color, using shadows to outline and give form to things.  Light searches out special places to make rainbows, in tiny puddles, and in dramatic spans across the sky.  Light works its way into our homes, giving light to read by, warms you in your special chair as you read.

Evenings the sun will conspire with the other elements for drama.  Clouds arranged along the western horizon offer up the color and contrast that makes for a memorable end to the day.
Some nights the sun will hide behind clouds until the last moment, and then just as darkness is falling in our east, the sun appears between the cloud line and the western horizon, a final blazing adieu.

I love evenings.  Watching the sun close up shop for the day, leaving the promise of another performance tomorrow.

I can't describe what light is, I can only describe the interaction of light with the things in my life.  Light can't be seen until it strikes something, it is invisible, unknown.  It is a satisfying partnership.  We are in darkness without light.  Light has no value unless it illuminates our world.

Sparkling on the waves of Lake Michigan.  Sliding behind the peaks of the Tetons.  Glimmering in Katherine's hair.  Warming Suzanne and I as we sit watching the kids at the beach.  Countless sunrises and sunsets that left me breathless and inspired, in awe of God's work.  These are some of my favorite places for sunlight.

Hope this finds you fully enlightened.

David