Fireflies

When we were kids, we’d capture fireflies in a jar, hoping to bring them inside to light up our rooms. Somehow it never worked. Fireflies aren’t meant to be captives. They’re meant to be free spirits, slipping through the evening shadows to bring delight to a child’s eyes for a fleeting moment before moving on to brighten up someone else’s darkness.

Little Georgia finished her work this afternoon and left us all richer for having known her.

It came to me that she and Adeline are like fireflies, sharing their light with us for an instant before fading into the twilight.

This hymn has been running through my thought all day:

Mother’s Evening Prayer

O gentle presence, peace and joy and pow’r;
O Life divine, that owns each waiting hour,
Thou Love that guards the nestling’s falt’ring flight!
Keep Thou my child on upward wing tonight.

Love is our refuge; only with mine eye
Can I behold the snare, the pit, the fall:
His habitation high is here, and nigh,
His arm encircles me, and mine, and all.

O make me glad for ev’ry scalding tear,
For hope deferred, ingratitude, disdain!
Wait, and love more for ev’ry hate, and fear
No ill, since God is good, and loss is gain.

Beneath the shadow of His mighty wing;
In that sweet secret of the narrow way,
Seeking and finding, with the angels sing:
“Lo, I am with you alway,” — watch and pray.

No snare, no fowler, pestilence or pain;
No night drops down upon the troubled breast,
When heaven’s aftersmile earth’s teardrops gain,
And mother finds her home and heav’nly rest.

– Mary Baker Eddy

Godspeed, little fireflies. Thank you for sharing your beautiful light with us, if ever so briefly.

Aunt Emily

Hope

My mom says every rainbow is a promise. I’m claiming this one. It’s a special one. I saw it on my way back from St. Louis just before sunset Sunday evening. It was huge and very intense when I first saw it, but before I could find a place to pull over so I could take a picture, it faded and nearly disappeared. Just as I approached an exit ramp, it came back, maybe even brighter than before. It reminded me of little Georgia, fading and then rallying over and over again all weekend.

Before I left for St. Louis on Friday, I spoke with a friend about the twins and my concern for them. My friend advised me to keep my light on, spiritually speaking. He said something to the effect that as long as someone is keeping a light on in some room, the house can’t go totally dark. He told me to keep supplying a warm, welcoming light. He talked about candles, but the vision that came to my thought was of a familiar neon sign cutting through the darkness to welcome a weary traveler.

Coming across western Missouri on I-44, I caught sight of no fewer than four churches with neon crosses glowing softly through the night.

I was hurrying at the time, but I promised myself that I would stop on the return trip and photograph them if I had the energy. The one above is at a church near Waynesville. I want to say it was a Baptist church, but I forgot to write down the name of it.

The one below was outside a Methodist church in Sleeper. Both are quite large — probably 30 or 40 feet high — and visible for a long, long way.

I made it only as far as Lebanon on Sunday night. I’ve never appreciated the Mother Road more. My mom called just as I was approaching the Lebanon exit and asked me to stop for the night so she wouldn’t have to worry about me driving late at night when I was tired. Normally, I’d argue with her, insist on making just a few more miles, and then end up driving all the way home, but I figured she had enough to worry about Sunday night without adding me to the mix, so I kept talking to her until I was safely ensconced under the canopy at the Munger Moss Motel.

I’d left St. Louis wishing I could either get home and sleep in my own bed or stay with family. When Ramona, the owner of the Munger Moss, greeted me in the lobby, it occurred to me that I was staying with family. I’ve known Ramona for several years, and she was very sweet to Oliver and Ashley when they stayed at her motel one night during their honeymoon. She asked me what I was doing out on the road, and I told her it wasn’t a pleasure cruise this time. Of course she was very understanding and very kind when I explained the situation, and she added her own thoughts and prayers to those going out on behalf of Georgia and her parents.

I checked in, went to my room, and slept well for the first time in days.

I slept in this morning, got up around 9:30, and headed home. Despite a long, deep sleep, I was emotionally drained and wasn’t quite ready to face my everyday life again, and I really wasn’t ready to face the traffic on the interstate, so I took the old road from Springfield to Carthage and paid attention to the small blessings along the way.

This is not a spectacular shot. It is not even a good shot. But it is a meaningful shot. I was getting out of the car to take a picture of a bridge, and I was listening to a CD that I’d picked up in the Reading Room a couple of weeks ago. On the CD is a version of the 23rd Psalm. I left the keys in the ignition, as this would be a quick shot, and I could hear the music as I walked toward the bridge. Just as I heard the line “he leadeth me beside the still waters,” I caught sight of this perfectly still creek.

I went ahead and shot the bridge while I was out there:

For those interested in such matters, all these images were taken with a little reconditioned Kodak EasyShare C310 that Ron picked up for $85 on Overstock.com a couple of weeks ago. I’d grabbed his camera on the way out the door because my Canon EOS Rebel (which is a much more expensive piece of equipment) is insured against damage but not against loss or theft, and I wasn’t inclined to leave it inside an unattended vehicle in the middle of a major city for hours and hours. The Kodak has its limitations, but for a cheap little point-and-shoot camera, it performs remarkably well.

I hope someday we’ll have the opportunity to see how well it works at capturing images of my beautiful niece running and playing with us. Please continue to lift up Georgia and her parents in your thoughts and prayers.

Emily