letting the time go

June finds us spending long days wrapped in the sun's golden embrace. And at the end of each day, we are left pink-cheeked and freckled with a bit more sparkle in our eye and eager plans for tomorrow. In June, days are full of sunshine... so are hands and heads and hearts. In June, gardens are weeded, watered, and weeded again. In June, a fresh batch of sun tea is made each morning and drunk out of a mason jar in the heat of the afternoon. In June, birds sing all day and peepers sing all night. In June, days are full... so beautifully, beautifully full. 

We started a bit of a tradition on our family vacation this year. As our holiday reached its end, we piled ourselves into the car, our faces pink and sunburnt, our arms tired from a week of kayaking and tennis. We were going to go watch the sunset. 

While I find myself ever productive in the midday glow of the sun, I don't often take the time to sit and watch its final adieu. In fact, I had never devoted the entire evening to that sole task until that day. 

We plopped ourselves onto a little bench at the edge of the lake; the sun was still high above the horizon, and as I was sitting and watching and thinking (...and taking pictures) I began to feel a little impatient at it. Granted, it was beautiful, but it was just taking so long to set! I watched the unmoving, yet breathtakingly beautiful spectacle, and I became convinced that the sunset is not efficient... It is not timed. It does not even really have a schedule. It just happens.

And so we sat. We watched, and the sun sank. It was beautiful, more beautiful than any show or painting or picture that I will ever see. I can't say how long we sat because after a while, I stopped checking the time. The minutes began to dissolve like the sun into the horizon, and we waited, watching, talking, breathing, praying. 

When the sun had disappeared, we breathed one last sigh of wonder, gathered our belongings and piled back into our dusty, blue Outback. It was a beautiful night, one that I will never forget. 

Perhaps I will find myself watching the sunset more often these days. While productivity and efficiency are very helpful virtues, I have discovered the good in taking a 'sunset sabbatical.' The moments of silence in wonder widen the horizons of the heart, turning the eyes of the soul to God in the majesty of His creation. And in letting the time go to simply watch and wonder and dream, I believe that we find a foretaste of heaven... 

“When one loves, one does not calculate.”  {Therese of Lisieux}