"Its silent just the crickets and my breathing,
and the God above is practicing his flash photography."-Sheree Plett
I have always been awed by lighting storms. They illuminate the opaque black night instantaneously, sheet lightening revealing the grass swaying in the fields and outlining the naked branches of trees like children caught in a game of hide and seek.
Like these lightening storms of exposure, the weight of emotion hits me unexpectedly. Moments where light captures me, reaches me, and reveals all I am for a moment. It is as though my numb exterior is uncovered for an instant and I feel everything. I feel exposed, broken, and weak. A child running from shadows.
The art of feeling I believe takes practices…
and I am out of practice.
Much of how I understand God, is based in what I feel -- and as one prone to numbness, this makes God seem as elusive at times as the morning fog. Much of life passes around me unfelt, like a stream past a boulder. I am solid and unmoving.
Until, God practices his flash photography in my life. In those brief glimpses I experience life to all its extremes, emotions without the corners cut. Reflected in the negative is a split second of seeing myself, of seeing God, of feeling the unfelt storms of my past.
I feel. I feel. I feel.
And God, not elusive but constant, is the one with the flash bulb chasing the shadows into the night.
