"Follow your feet"

We've had blessed rains lately, and no one I know is complaining. However, the sun shines a ton in northwest Iowa, and three days of cloudiness gets a little wearying. 

Tuesday afternoon the clouds dispersed, as they say, opened up a bit at least for a couple of minutes, and the sun brought everything back to life. What a bright sun does to almost-gone cloudiness is quite the show, and it went on right in our backyard.

Inside, I couldn't help notice the sudden sun, but when I looked out the windows north, the sky was almost embarrassingly showy. There's very little on this canvas but clouds, and still, what an artful portrait. The sky is mammoth and, really, not to be missed.

All of this went on just outside our backdoor. I grabbed my phone and pointed at heavens that were, just then, most vividly declaring His glory.

Maybe ten minutes-max, and the show was over. 

Then yesterday, I picked up Buechner again to see what he had to say. It was an odd, pretzel of a reflection that began with a narrative that made it sound as if he were dying. He was telling himself how precious everything is in the morning because this was the last time he'd ever brew a cup of coffee. Everything was beautiful because he would never see it again.  

It was more than a little drippy, I thought, and fiction--or fictional really. Then, the end. "It is the first day because it has never been before and the last day because it will never be again." And finally the text of the sermon: "Be alive if you can all through this day today of your life. What's to be done?"

Okay, makes sense. 

Follow your feet. Put on the coffee. Start the orange juice, the bacon, the toast. Then go wake up your children and your wife. Think about the work of your hands, the book that of all conceivable things you have chosen to add to the world's pain. Live in the needs of the day. 

He might have said, "observe the lily," or, when you can, have a look at the heavens.

I felt blessed.

 And now I'll make the coffee.