I am, as I write, sitting on my screen porch, looking out my back door over the railing at scenery I’ve delighted in for years. But I’m not enjoying it now, not really, because tomorrow we move out. And I’m sad. So many happy memories, out here on the porch and inside this home. I’ll never again find myself looking out my back door – not this back door over this railing to these trees. Never again. I miss my view even before it’s gone.
I’ve spent the last ten minutes taking picture after picture out my back door, trying to capture the scene so I can hold on to it. The light is perfect, a soft breeze gently sways my trees, but sadness dilutes their beauty because tomorrow the view out my back door will belong to others.
Suddenly God reminds me, as He often does when my thoughts are skewed, that I’m looking ahead and missing the moment He’s giving me now. Because now I
As I think (perhaps I should say “as I pray”), I remember that God is the giver of good things, consistently and unchangingly. Ahhh … there’s my error! I’m assuming that the disappearance of this loveliness means that loveliness itself will be gone. But no. Loveliness doesn’t disappear; it just changes. My sadness eases, just a bit, as I begin to trust: God will bring me other (though different) lovely things to savor. Other “back porches.” Other “railings.” Other “trees.”
And now? Now I still have a few more moments to delight in the view out today’s back door.
Looking Out My Back Door
© Lynne Fox, 2013