The Sunset Sneak

We returned from dinner tonight and while Ann and our guests walked down to the lake, I went up to the cabin to read, etc. As I was sitting in the front room, facing away from the window, I noticed a pink-orange glow oozing into the room. When I turned to look out the window, the entire sky was filled with color.

Moments before, the sky was a normal, average sky--nothing to note. Now it was ablaze. Amazing how quickly glory can happen.

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(C) Laura Springer

Laura's Writings by Laura Springer is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 United States License.

2011's last early morning commute

It's the last early morning trip of 2011 and I am mostly alone. The tech store across the street blares xmas (spelling intentional) music radio. I won't miss that.

I will miss the people. A skinny, older woman huddles just north of the stop, pacing south and back now and again. One younger woman waits, hugging her coffee mug close, glancing hopefully down the street. We board the bus at last and, oddly, three unseen waiters board with us.

Thus began the final work day of the year.

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(C) Laura Springer

Laura's Writings by Laura Springer is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 United States License.

Four-legged waiting-mate

 Last night, I waited with a different sort of wait-mate. At the first bus stop on the way home, human companionship is rare (probably one reason this bus comes every 45 minutes). In fact, any sort of companionship is rare--save for the scary spiders that sometimes appear at my feet. Eek.

Last night was different. I sat, waiting--a bit grouchy, having missed my intended bus by about 30 seconds--and suddenly felt a bit of a presence behind me. I turned to find a cat, sitting elegantly in the neighbor's yard. He nicely posed for a picture.

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(C) Laura Springer

Laura's Writings by Laura Springer is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 United States License.

Waiting in Saturday-empty 12/17

On Saturday, it's all different: the sun is up, the direction is opposite, and the people are other. My usual Saturday waiting companion is here, in her gray hoodie and black sneakers, on her way to work. One other was here, but rushed off to get something from the mini mart behind us. Otherwise, it's quiet and Saturday-empty.

Funny how weekday 5:30 AM is busier than Saturday 8:00 AM.

Anyhow, we wait.

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(C) Laura Springer

Laura's Writings by Laura Springer is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 United States License.

At the bus stop 12/15

I missed my bus, so I'm mostly alone: I wait here with strangers. One in an orange Texas hoodie, another sports Dodger blue. A third gets delivered in a silver SUV and one waits where the imposing health worker waited on another day. Two more stand afar, following an unwritten distancing rule (with unknown criteria). In the distance, I see the pinkish orange headsign and hope rises.

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(C) Laura Springer

Laura's Writings by Laura Springer is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 United States License.

At the bus stop 12/13

The conscientious smoker stands far off, hovering near the fire hydrant, chatting with two friends. On the bench sits the back pack of the tan hooded lurker, hunched and brooding. A health worker, wearing scrubs and an imposing stature, stands on the other side of the flower bed, while a boy in shorts, flip flops, and a beanie reaches for his cell phone. As the coach waits for the light to change, two more rider approach. Within seconds, we are off on another day.

--- Twitter - Facebook
(C) Laura Springer

Laura's Writings by Laura Springer is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 United States License.

At the Bus Stop 12/12

 Looking at the stop from across the street, I see he has arrived first: the young smoker in the brown hoodie. At least I can position myself upwind.

Next is the bicycling husband, escorting his wife (I assume) to the bus stop; every day he comes with her and waits until the bus arrives. I am impressed.

Up walks a young woman with Jheri curls and mod boots, followed by one who stands at a distance from the stop, phone attached to her ear.

As we wait in a light mist, our eyes gazing hopefully down the street, the cross street bus comes, delivering a couple of riders.

In a few moments, our bus arrives, the escorting bicyclist leaves, and we board the coach, off to our sundry destinations.

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(C) Laura Springer

Laura's Writings by Laura Springer is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 United States License.

Lighting the Tree - the importance of ritual

Final Preparations

Friday night was Biola's christmas tree lighting. While I have only attended once (being a bus commuter who lives a bit too far), I always note the weekend when the tree in front of Crowell is transformed.

Lights Shining on Monday Morning

Today at a luncheon, a long time faculty person noted the significance of this event for the spiritual health of the school. I would add community, as many come from the neighborhood.

For us it is the beginning of celebrating incarnation. It is a ritual worth repeating.

Yahweh the shepherd-Psalm 23

Our GPS is broken and we broke it ourselves. We will wander off at any given moment and not even know we've done it.

The only effective response is to trust the leadership of one who sees all of reality, knows what to do for our good, and can and will do it.That one is Yahweh, revealed most clearly in Jesus. There is no other who fills all three requirements.

By wind and light: nature's art

Wind

This week in Southern California, we had wind. When winds combine with fall leaf drop, some amazing visuals can occur. I was able to capture one on a walk around campus.

Light

Fall also brings amazing sunrises and sunsets. While I am certain some science type can supply detailed explanations for the glory, I will stick with Wow.