September 19

Today, the mercury once again swelled to 100 degrees. (And yes, it's getting very, very old. Fall starts on the 23rd, for pete's sake! Bring me some pumpkins and spice and hot apple cider and blue jeans! But I digress.) But the air was comfortably dry, so we hit the street to take our customary evening walk.

As we strolled, we could hear a loud grinding noise off in the distance. Everywhere we went, it was ERRR! ROAR! CHOMP!. After much mulling over what we thought was causing the ruckus, we at long last came upon the source of the cacophony: a stump grinder hard at work chewing up old branches over near the elementary school. As we rushed to escape the jarring noise, I had a number of random but still pointed thoughts: how rude to do this at 6:40 PM on a Saturday. How gross does it smell?!. (And most commonly) I wonder when it'll end. But then I looked off to the side and saw this.

See it? The filtered, sunbeam-esque rays of light tucked between the trees?

Without that irritatingly loud stump grinder's action-- which tossed up the dust that caught the light that formed them-- these pretty rays wouldn't have existed. And I wouldn't have had the occasion to think I bet the air in Heaven looks like that every day (but without the stinky smell).

Again, something beautiful arises from something not-so-lovely. I think it happens every day; the kind of stuff we miss if we're not actively looking.