Our Daily Light Show

Like it or not, I've taken up the sport of stair climbing. Although I haven't counted the steps yet, in just four weeks, I can feel the difference in my leg muscles. It's impressive how much exercise a bigger house adds to my days.

Amelia drags down her blanket and puppy each morning for breakfast; I cart it right back up, knowing nap time won't happen if I don't. Then, as I do the laundry, my ears hear the sounds of Emerson repeatedly screaming "Wy-att!!!" before crying in that "I'm hurt" pitch--another trip upwards.

Time after time, I make the short trip upstairs, quickly moving towards my destination and starting my descent...that is, until the late afternoon sun streams through the crescent window at just the right angle, piercing the crystal sphere that hangs from the chandelier and scattering small, refracted rainbows of hope throughout the stairwell and atop the vaulted ceiling.

Then, I slow down, sometimes stop.

6 pm. Supper time. But, I call Wyatt anyway to come see God's rainbows and watch as he delights in them, too. Up the steps he bounces, playing in the flashes of color, putting his face on the wall where one, then another shines.

"Is it on me, mommy?" he giggles.

I smile, too, placing my head next to his, asking him the same question. "Yes!!!" he exclaims and excitedly moves to the next splash of color his short arms can reach.

Each afternoon, the light shines through this sphere for hours, but only for a few minutes do I enjoy this perfect meeting of light and crystal to form a multitude of slender rainbows.

The past week, I've been hearing the voice of God again, listening and hearing (although not always understanding). Oh, how it's been wonderful to exit the desert, to feel that close communion again.

And as I enjoyed the rainbows this afternoon, I couldn't help but think of how this was a picture of my relationship with God. He shines the light of His grace and mercy on me all the time. But it's only in those all-too-short instances that my human mind connects with the divine and I can truly see what was there all along--a Savior who loves me, who cares for me, and who speaks to me of a hope, love, joy, and peace to be found only in Him.

To hear that voice of hope, I just may need to reposition myself in relation to the Light.