Holding Summer’s Light as the Sky Turns to Grey
Huge rain rushes in from yesterday’s ninety-degree heat. A grey storm outside turns the sky green. Hot French Press coffee and an Indie band crooning in multi-part harmony set a reflective tone.
Halfway through this new journal, the stitching threads line the notebook crease, a straight hem through paper. Halfway through the summer, the season’s longest day of light on June 21st, with sunlight’s last whispers hinting still at ten pm, already nine days ago.
(My mom had called me that night, giggling and determined to outlast the light.
“I worked in my yard, and I can still see! I’m siting on my front step and some neighbors are out too. I always want to be out here on this longest day of the year, out until the very last light fades.”
I had peered outside through the dark and pictured her out there, knees curled in deep twilight.)
Halfway through the summer, and yet I feel like summer has just started. My hopes and Project To Do lists for the summer stretch long, and I sit now, scrawling pen, re-evaluating, and trying to hold summer like pool water in scooped hands.
Two friends of ours crafted Caring Bridge sites this summer as cancer clobbered them. One of them, a young dad and husband, died last week. His funeral is today. The other friend awaits clinical photon light trials to target tumors in his brain, and the rest of us take deep breaths and try to wrap our brains around this hard new story for each of them and their families.
My husband and I, with our youngest, spent this last week at a Bible camp in northern Minnesota as daily seminar leaders. Two hundred high school students played vertical nine square, popping balls over their heads. They paddled boats, pelted each other in water fights, and pulled out wooden benches each day as speakers pulled open God’s word. I joined other speakers in teaching and praying for these teens to know how loved they are by God, and to know his great plans and purposes for them. We spoke of the dangers that could harden in their lives, entangling and tripping them up, and we urged them to see the adventures God has for them and the joys of doing life his way, even when life was hard.
My ten year old son stood at his cabin window the first night, hearing high schoolers run and squeal in late-night games.
“Mom, it’s still light out. Can I stay up?”
And I knew how the week would stretch out, late nights piling up fast, and how hours in the sun and sand would wipe him out.
“No, it’s time to sleep, my boy. Tomorrow’s another day. There will be so many fun things to do this week.” I kissed him, tousling his summer blonde hair. Tiny curls swept up his forehead.
He slid under his sheet and blanket, pulling a tiny cheetah closer. I pulled curtains shut, the light already fading to grey.
If you are not receiving my posts by email yet, welcome. Simply enter your email address in the box under my bio at the top right of the page. Don’t miss a post and be part of any special offers too!