I stood at the rail of the deck, captivated by the magical light filtered through soft new leaves. Shades of green, some pink, a little gold with a tinge of orange — all tender, vulnerable, under the mercy. My heart swells daily with gratitude for the setting sun's show. Our wooded hill shines in its role as lantern, lighting my way to the Waymaker.
Give me your lantern and compass,
give me a map,
So I can find my way to the sacred mountain,
to the place of your presence,
To enter the place of worship,
meet my exuberant God,
Sing my thanks with a harp,
magnificent God, my God.
— Psalm 43:3-4
