The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech:
night after night they display knowledge.
Our lives roll along, a virtual ball of yarn, covering all that came before but changing shape nonetheless. A pulsating, passionate life. Or maybe not so much. Perhaps just a life that limps. Gathering strength like a cat crouched, mustering faith to pounce on tomorrow.
So I remember dusk. That time sacred to mingling of strength and weakness. Light and dark. Volume and silence. Dusk is balance illustrated. Sketched by the hand of God. Taught in a way that only God could teach it.
I want to bask in my sunshine moments of daylight and trust in the moonlit moments but I want to live my days in dusk. At one time I believed I was to choose whether I'd live the heights and depths kind of life or the middle ground play-it-safe kind of life. But living has shown me that the heights and depths just come. We have very little say over it. Very little choice. What we can choose is who we turn to in those moments, who we acknowledge them to have come from. Whose hand is holding the pencil.
Lord, give me the peace of dusk....................