Sitting on the beach this evening, watching as the sun sank between clouds alternately illuminating barnacle covered rocks and translucent cerulean white caps and plunging them into a cold dimness, I began to wonder if, after a year of being here, I would begin to take this beauty for granted. Red tinged cumulous clouds billow over Scotland on the horizon. Off to the right there's part of a rainbow hanging mysteriously in the sky. Seagulls, terns and cormorants chase each other near the crashing surf. Right now, I'm seeing these things with fresh eyes, with a sense of wonder. Next August, how will I see this place? And it raises the question--what do I take for granted at home? Do I stop and marvel at pregnant thunderheads hanging over the plains of Kansas, frisking the earth with fingers of electric purple? Does snow gently falling over the East Coast arrest me in the middle of my day with joy? How often do I really see the world that is so familiar; how do I make it unfamiliar again?
This Sunday, I've been asked to do the readings in service: Psalm 118:19-29 and the story of the ten lepers (Luke 17:11-17). In the first, "This is the day that the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it" Psalm 118:24. In the second, out of ten people healed, only one returns to give praise to God. Somehow these passages resonate with my own thoughts today--how often do we turn back and give thanks for the extraordinary? How often do we truly rejoice in this day that the LORD has made? The answer for me is "not nearly enough". Perhaps this year will be a lesson in rejoicing. I know I need it.
Rewind a couple of hours. The Clerk of Session took me out for my first drive today. Perhaps I should be rejoicing in the fact that we're both still alive and the car is just fine. After three months of my mother's expert tutelage in driving a stick, that aspect of the ride went delightfully well. I only stalled once and I'm not counting it because it was in the process of learning to start on a hill with the hand brake on--which is not the way that I learned to do it here. When using that particular method, one has to take one's foot off of the break. I forgot which foot was which and took my foot off of the clutch...stall. See. It doesn't count. No, the real kicker was driving on the left. Oh it's fine when you're on the road going straight and all; it's when you turn that the instinct kicks in and you head for the right lane, which also happens to be the lane of the oncoming traffic. Definitely a no no. Aside from that minor detail, it's almost like learning to drive all over again because, I don't know about you, but when I was 16 I had a tendency to think that I was far too close to the middle of the road and stayed uncomfortably close (to those teaching me to drive) to the curb. Well, it's the same now. I feel that I'm much too close to the cars coming toward us so I have the uncanny habit of rubbing up against the hedges. My incredibly patient teacher tells me that everyone does it, not to worry. I'm still a little worried.
Aside from these things, the only notable thing that happened to me today was that I got food. This, I think, is a definite plus.
More pictures...they're supposed to be mostly of clouds, but my camera didn't read my mind on that one and so some of them didn't work so well. There are a couple that are of a rainbow. It looked better in person.
Clouds, a rainbow...and clouds
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