Bigger Picture Moment: Glowing

The sun is late in the sky, low but not dark, falling but not fallen.  Trees across the valley block the glare, but the heat still hits us right in the face.  Too hot for May, I worry.  The summer will be miserable. 

But we are beside the creek, where the breeze blows cool and wet, smelling of moss and fish and mud: fresh and alive.  The water ripples and swirls against the steep banks.  Leaves rustle overhead in an echoing song.  Rush and gush.  Shhhhh and Fwhhhhh. 

The shade is nice, I think, but it darkens the place, muting the sunset into something dull.  The girls are digging holes and giggling and being the opposite of dull.  Daddy and Landon are tickling and throwing and being utterly un-dull.  The water is alive and rushing and contradicting dullness with every wave. 

I move to the bluff overlooking the creek.  Here, the sun touches the water, throwing handfuls of glitter at the surface.  The white lights jump at my eyes, and I blink, pained; the whole world is too bright.

I turn around.  Landon is in the air, soaking up the sunset's reflection and flying over our heads.  He's lit up and glowing.  Accepting the brightness, the heat, the breeze, the wetness, and shining it back to us as a smile. 

He removes the shadows from the shade, glowing with pure joy.  

I wrap this moment into a tight fist, curl it into a coil, pack it away, and save it for always.  And by the time we walk away from the creek and the glitters of light, the sun has set.  Fallen.  Because it knows we have bits of it perched on our hips and saved in our hearts.





We're seeing the Bigger Picture through simple moments -- moments that force us to stop and take notice of the ways our worlds are important, meaningful, and beautiful. Please join us at Jade's place today! Grab the button, link up, and read a few others to encourage them as they find the fullness in the simple