Like a tin of favorite candy, or a notebook of pressed flowers, I keep treasured memories. Opening the pages, the feelings, scents, and companions return. Like a scene from a guided meditation, a dream, or an unexpected song playing in my mind’s ear, they are rich with promise, able to speak into my life… offering pockets of sun to help me keep going with joy.
Colorado has been on my mind this summer. The summers I knew there were largely carefree, spent sitting beside my black cat on my parents’ back deck, soaking up the mid-morning sun. By afternoon, relaxing in the hammock, listening to the sounds of the swaying aspen. My cat carefully moving through the grass on the day’s hunt… until the first drops of rain caught on my face, the rocks began to darken, and the rolling thunder snapped. Jumping to the ground, swooping in to gather up my soft companion, making our way inside moments before the deluge came.*
With the memory of it, I’m there once more, even if just for a moment, drinking in the morning light. Transported, the cells of my body open like a sunflower following the sun. And then I am filled. The spirit of my cat sits beside me, melting in the warmth. Safe. Home. Like the first day of vacation. Finally allowing my body to let go of all tension.
In the spirit of filling pockets with sun,
*Excerpt from a sermon I preached July 16, 2017 entitled “…rain and snow from heaven…”
Image by Dietlind Wolf