Observations on a Friday Evening

Along the Way @ mlsgregg.com

Gentle Reader,

Goosebumps rise on my forearms, competing for space among the freckles. Standing near the kitchen window, I peer through wood slats, moved to somehow find words for the indescribable. Nobody can capture the fleeting, never-repeated beauty of a cloudy sunset. Not writers, not painters. Not really. All we may attempt is a mediocre copy of a genius that lies beyond our reach.

And yet we keep stretching, hoping to grasp it.

The little hairs stand on the back of my neck in response to the chill. It is spring but not yet warm. Faded leaves, left behind in Autumn, blanketed in Winter, out of place now, cluster around the tree trunks. I imagine they are jealous of the tender buds on the limbs. A juxtaposition of death and life, a mingling of seasons.

A dance, the steps of which we never quite learn.

Nature can never be reduced to the clinical, the parts. We try to box it up. Contain it. Master it. Yet there is something beyond the mechanics. An echo, a calling. We study but long to peer beyond.

Palest of yellows. A tinge of orange. Fluff above shifts and shudders.

The dogs bark at nothing. One runs through the little door, plastic and metal banging. Disturbing the scene.

Reverie broken, I turn from the window. Back to the now.

This now – I don’t care for it, for here there are many questions. Foremost in my mind is whether I should even continue this writing thing. Wondering if I’m any good at it. If the hours I spend with the pen and the keys matter.

I have no answer and I do not look for your pity.

My eyes move back to the window and the distance. Light has faded. Nothing but clouds now, obscuring the first stars of night. My mind conjures up strains from “Somewhere Out There,” sung by the little immigrant mouse in the child’s movie. He looked. I look.

The kettle whistles. Time for a cup of something hot, a comfort in the unanswered.

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Image credit: Micah Hallahan
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18 thoughts on “Observations on a Friday Evening

  1. Beautiful description of a sunset. True we cannot (nor ever) fully describe it. And yet, if I had never seen a sunset, I would know after reading what you wrote. Thank you!

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  2. I’ve missed you friend. I know you’re not looking for answers from me but your words matter to me. Oh and I feel like I’m there with you as I read. Such a gorgeous description!

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  3. Marie, it’s so GOOD to see you here again! I’ve missed you.

    No pity, and no smoke and mirrors…but I think you should keep writing.

    1) You have a gift for clear and logical thinking, and it is evident in your writing. You can state a premise concisely, and argue it convincingly.

    2) You have a perspective, from dealing with adversity, which many people need to hear. It is one that has been largely abandoned by current Christian commentators; it’s almost as if they are afraid of damaging their relationship with God if they explore pain, doubt, and fear. You have the courage these individuals lack.

    3) You have a winsome heart, and your words make you a friend to those who come to know you through this medium. It is not a friendship to be treated lightly; for me, there is indeed a real Marie Gregg, and though I will never meet her in this life, lo, her words still touch my heart and affect my thinking. I have let you in; others have done the same.

    I have struggled with similar doubts about my writing, and my decision to continue, renewed each day, turns on small things – for example, today my sister-in-law commented on Facebook (where I had announced my current blog post) that she hoped my writing would be collected into a book. Coming from her, that was a very startling remark, for I had no idea she read my blog.

    So I continue. It’s not easy; I’m going into places of the heart that I would sometimes rather not see, but it would feel rather a disloyalty to quit. My writing gets worse, more awkward, yet somehow a message gets through.

    Dear Marie, I hope you’ll keep on, but I for one will understand if you don’t. I will, however, miss you, as I have these past months.

    And I will keep alight burning in my heart, in the hope of your return.

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  4. Marie, you fascinate me with how you use words to paint a picture – the scenes just pop right up for me to see. Don’t ever doubt the talent God has given you. You are special. Hugs from me to you

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  5. Marie, I have always loved the way you use words to express yourself! To “doubt” if you are any good at this is to mock the Lord’s gracious gift of writing that He has bestowed on you! Keep at it! It’s wonderful to see something from you after too long an absence! Love you bunches!

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