Early morning at Brant Lake: the sun is slowly rising in the east, creeping over the red and blue barns where the horses, pigs, goats and chickens live. Frankie, a horse, stretches and ambles out to the pile of hay for breakfast. In our home we prefer a bagel and eggs!
The sun does not seem to be in a hurry to rise. It will travel according to its own timetable. At Point O’Pines girls’ camp a wake-up call sounds on the loud speaker. In an earlier day a trumpet awakened the girls.
Slowly the sun bathes the boys’ camp in radiant light and travels over our house before surmounting the lake shore. It has been light for many hours but the sun has not yet made its appearance. Now, rays of sunlight transform the lake into a vision of illuminated strips. While the town of Horicon assembles for the July 4th parade the sun continues its progress, bringing heat in its wake.
Late afternoon: the sun has become entangled in the branches of our white birch tree as it patiently recedes into the west.
We wait. Will there be a beautiful sunset? The residue of sunlight begins to darken even as it touches the low mountains on the opposite side of the lake.
”Don’t go!” We call out but this phenomenon is completely out of our control. Night is dawning. A strange combination of words, and in minutes the sun will disappear behind the hills.
What is the next stop on its journey to the far side of the earth? I am tempted to follow the sun. Catch it. Make it my own. But I know this isn’t possible, only a fantasy.
How many places, ideas, phenomenon, and dreams would we choose to chase after in our world? If we can catch them we would make them our own. But, as the book of Ecclesiastes says, chasing after the sun is futile, as if we were chasing after the wind. So I bid farewell to the sun and give thanks for the many gifts that are mine, the aspects of my life that I can catch and keep for my own.
And I know the sun will rise on another morning.
Accompanied by my longing.