an everyday transfiguration

I am mad for Lake Michigan sunsets.  But on one of my last mornings at our summer place I was captivated by the morning sky.  With the sun rising behind me, the clouds were tinted with a whisper of pink as though painted by Maxfield Parrish.  And I thought, “Lord, it is good for me to be here…let me build a tent right here for us to stay in!”  (Matthew 17) 

But then, just as on the Mount of Transfiguration, the clouds turned from pink to pale yellow and back to their normal grayish-white, and it was another ordinary day…a day to enjoy and appreciate, certainly.  But it was not a day to stay.  It was a day to pack up and go home.

I shall miss the swooping gulls and the gentle rhythm of the waves, the cool nip in the late August air.  But there is also the call of the open road, there are visits with cherished friends and family and finally, at the end of the road, there is home. 

This is the ever-moving, changing, transfiguring of life. 

Love, Liz