Sunset on Fort George Island
We sit on the porch alone together at twilight.
“Soon,” I whisper, “the sun will set and our sky will change.
The show will begin.”
“The eye of God will come and all His glory will perform just for us.”
We are like children filled and overflowing with anticipation,
as if running down the stairs on Christmas morning
to see what new shinnies the man in red has left behind.
Spellbound, first we see a soft blue, we point and say,
“Oh, that’s the color we should paint our bedroom.”
Then, with each inch the sun retreats below our marsh:
the pink, warm golds, deep blue – crimsons and orange.
We just gaze, almost a strange glare in silence engulfed and flooded
by the presence of God.
I don’t think either one of us is breathing….?
For a moment I remember back to the time when He and I started this journey together.
We had nothing – we were both children – both alone.
We had held each other and declared,
“We can do this!”
Yes, we are breathing.
Here we are now, engulfed and submerged in this Shangri-La.
We feel hidden as if we have been sitting here alone together for centuries,
taking in all knowledge of what we see.
In the silence of our shambhala
we become conscious of great noise filling our lull.
Can there be soft noise?
In our stillness we now see the other world,
we hear the other world also along with us at the closing of our day, their day.
They are lifting their voices, their essence, to their God, our God.
First a song from the wren, soft and sweet, calling earnestly.
Crickets using drums to communicate, a familiar cry of the marsh hen
and off to the left frogs begin to harmonize.
There is life all around us giving praise.
Not wanting to be left out,
the tall cedars begin to sway, dancing with the music from the breezes.
We close our eyes and feel their soft touch on our up turned faces
as they ask us to join them in their evening dance.
With one last gift to be given us on this memorable evening – just off to the northeast, slightly into our right ears,
we hear the peacocks offering up roaring cries, their last prayers for this night,
from high atop the massive oaks where they retreat and retire for protection.
Now He and I join hands as black silhouettes against a sea of color
slowly slipping away to become our night sky.
Our breath is good.
Our breathing in time.
“We are happy.”
He looks at me, deep, intensely – into all I am – we smile –
Is this what Paul meant when he said, “to be in constant prayer”?
I think so!
The phone rings.
My thoughts are yielded.
It’s Kammy.
I laugh out loud!
- Elizabeth Slover 2006
Liz & Dave celebrate 40 years of marriage on November 23, 2009
