There's something holy in the way that the green in the leaves waves goodbye at the end of the summer. It's like the Wizard's Omaha State Fair balloon leaving Oz, with all the munchkins looking up and waving farewell, shouting "Goodbye! Goodbye!" with their tiny little voices. In our case, though, we know that we will see the green leaves again next spring. There's a sweetness in our goodbyes too, because their departure hastens the arrival of their gold and burnt-red cousins, which will dance above our heads in countless degrees of glory for the next several weeks.There's something holy in the half-moon shaped date cookies that Grandma brings to each and every family Christmas. They are an anticipated part of that magical day, along with the knitted slippers that she will hand to you as a gift. Cookies and slippers filled with holiness because of the hands that made them. And there's something so very holy in the hugs that remain, many years after these hands ache too much to knit the slippers, to make the cookies.
There's something holy there when you find yourself walking behind an elderly couple on a pathway beside a fountain, near red, pink, and violet flowers. Bent over by age, their love and faithfulness stands strong as they enjoy a short walk outside of their retirement home.
And there is something holy in this fine-tip pen and the blue ink that spills down onto this crinkled paper, continuing the evolution, continuing the learning that began so very many years ago with desire, with power, and an explosion of stars.
