We face the setting sun here. Here in the west, here in Bellingham, here in our home with the large picture windows (at both ends of the house) pointing toward the bay. But many days, I don't see the setting sun. Clouds cover it too many days to count, of course. So I'm excused from that notice. But what of the other days? What of the days when I have my back facing the windows? What about the days when I'm just too dang busy or pre-occupied to notice?
Last night, as I was settling Grampie into his chair after his afternoon nap (he sleeps longer and longer each) and asking him about dinner, he pointed out the window behind me and said, "Look at the light!" I turned around and saw this:
Until my old, demented Grampie points it out. Grampie! Grampie who barely notices when we stick his foot in warm water or comb his hair or have a conversation, is ALSO not consumed by worries. He's open to seeing those colors and light when they show up because he isn't distracted by other things.
There's something fitting about that, isn't there? The dying of the day in such gorgeous color pointed out and enjoyed by one who is also living the colors of the aged, or (if I can be so blunt) of the dying. He's in his last colors, And I pray that we can see these days with him as beautiful, as beautiful and glorious as that dying sun.