I watched as the dark lines of trees against a subtly colored sky whirred past. From my vantage point in the way back of our van, there was nothing else for me to do. An hour’s drive with a car full, I have opted for this seat to allow longer legs more room. It is dark already at 5 o’clock on this Winter’s solstice. The silhouettes of pine and deciduous are breathtaking against the ever-changing backdrop of a dimly glowing sky. I keep wishing it wouldn’t go by so fast. Each dart of my eyes is trying to snap a picture of the beauty within the small aperture of the back window. One after the other, gorgeous silhouettes flying by in the frame. Please stop! I want to take it all in, savor it, remember it!
But no. We must move on to our next destination. We must arrive on time. Can’t slow down. Can’t stop. Must. Go. On.
As I was held captive by space and beauty, I couldn’t help but feel this is my life–whirring by in a small frame of a family on their way somewhere. Of an artist in a small town. Of a teacher in a tiny school. SO much beauty flying by all around me and I scarce can take it in.
This is the ache I carry with me always. I feel it keen at the busiest times. These are the times it just feels wrong to be so busy. Yet it is precisely because of all the busy that so much beauty is flying around me–
*Loved ones, crammed in a car, listening to lovely holiday music, on our way to hear other loved ones perform and sing a holiday concert.
*A house full of lights and trees and decorations and presents and food and bustling.
*A calendar filled with holiday events, church activities, trips to visit family, book signings and more.
Can’t we please stop? I want SO to take it all in, to savor it, to remember it!
But no. We must move on to our next destination. We must arrive on time. Can’t slow down. Can’t stop.
Or can we?
I reach for my pen, sketchbook and journal. I write my thoughts. I draw a picture. This is stopping. This is remembering. This is savoring some of the beauty that has whirred by. If only for a few minutes or half an hour, I can stop the van, get out, take a pic or two. Then get back in.
This will do. Though the ache will continue on, it is abated in the sketchbook and the journal. Drawcumenting the fleeting moments soothes the ache to go slow. Writing it down reminds me that I’m still here, a vessel to hold all these beautiful moments.
I will draw and write to slow down time just a little bit. Won’t you hop out of the van with me, and we will take a pic or two together!
This is a follow-up post to the previous one, in case you missed it.:)