light, one

Light dancing, that's what fall looks like. The light through the trees fills this strange house with bits of glory. I glide out of the four walls to somehow be closer, to commune with it, to touch it. I don't understand it.

Light pours through my windows, erasing shadows in the oddly proportioned corners of my room. 
I rub sleep from my drooping eyes and pretend that my body doesn't hurt from chasing light to the fullest the entire weekend. The pungent balsam wafting from a pillow at the foot of my bed won't let me stay asleep for long, and I pad to the other side of the room to lift the yoga mat moonlighting as a window shade. Darkness scatters, the room bathed with warm, moving light. The day begins.

I climbed to the top of Looking Glass Rock on Sunday simply to see the light play with the mountains of Pisgah at dusk. My Nikon couldn't really capture it. My face did, with a summery glow hovering about me when I pulled back into the driveway of our homesteady house.

Tonight, the hills glow purple in the feast of fall, reds and yellows and oranges overshadowing greens and browns, the reflection magical on the waters of my chosen haven. My heart is full, but not satisfied. It should be, I think. My favorite hills hem me in, mirrored in the stillness, hazy with beauty. A smile tugs at my mouth. This is the place I've dreamed about, the stage every girl hopes for.

I love A with my whole heart. I knew this weighty thing this time last year, and before that when light played with clouds and colors sealed our afternoon spent lazily paddling in Mills River two summers ago. If you ever see this, A, it's true. I knew I'd never be the same when I climbed into your dad's truck so you could give me a ride back to my stranded car, so struck by you that I couldn't even comment on the rainbow without sounding nervous.  A year and some change later, I am still apt to enjoy being in your presence without saying so, certain my voice might shake.

The story builds slowly at first and then all at once. We laugh now about the miscommunications that kept us both from being honest with one another-and perhaps ourselves-and kept us apart for more than a year. I relish it, though, because through it I see marks of my Father's goodness to me. Truly in tenderness He sought me, and somehow A does the same. When I am closed off to Him, He visits anyway. When I run from Him, He does not force but runs after me. When I prefer to wallow in guilt and sadness, He offers light to dance in the shadows. A, you imitate these things. Thank you. Falling for you and watching you exercise strength in tenderness has been the most beautiful redemption of my life.

And yet, even in the beauty, in the joy, in the sheer fun of being in love, choosing to love, and working beside the one I love, my heart still clamors. I still strive for the approval of others. I still sink when I realize that I'm not enough according to my own efforts. I want desperately to not mess up. The wonder of this stage sometimes fades, leaving me scared that I need more.

And I am pointed to a greater Reality.