Back in early July, John and I did one of our favorite short summer outings -- a day trip up to South Haven, Michigan. We spent time downtown, having a late breakfast, watching boats and geese in the marina channel, picking up a few books at the secondhand bookstore, and reading on the bluff overlooking the lighthouse.
Then we headed over to Van Buren state park and the public beach. It has some sandy sections, but I head for the stones. So many colors and shapes, and so bright after a wave has washed over them. I pick up stone after stone that catches my eye for one reason or another -- the perfectly egg-shaped rock, the glowing quartz, the fossil, the crystal shining in a small hole. Some I bring home, to use with my groups in prayers with nature objects. Part of me wants to pull out geology books and put names to all the different sorts; mostly I'm content to simply admire all the wondrous diversity of shape and color and texture.
"Instructions for living a life:
Tell about it."
Mary Oliver in "Sometimes"
I've taken on a prayer practice of looking for the moments of light in each day, whether actual or metaphorical, and then writing or posting photos of what I find.