205. Beauty is the shadow of God on the universe. ~Gabriela Mistral

A man should hear a little music,
read a little poetry, and
see a fine picture every day of his life,
in order that worldly cares
may not obliterate the sense of the
beautiful implanted in the human soul.
~Johann Wolfgang Goethe

Image

In her novel, THE COLOR PURPLE, Alice Walker maintains that God gets angry if a person walks by the color purple in a field and doesn’t notice it.  So it is that at one point in the story the main character, Celie, is told to look at the purple flowers and then to embrace their beauty in spite of all the pain and suffering in her world.  She is urged to see the good in them and acknowledge it because God placed them all on earth.  After she learns the lesson, she has more respect for life and what it has to offer.  It’s obvious that God puts a premium on beauty, not only for His own sake but for ours as well.  Since we are made in His image, our souls cannot help but be implanted with a “sense of the beautiful” as Goethe suggests.  Therein beauty feeds us spiritually and like a highway sign it points to God and His goodness.  If we can find beauty, we can find God.  He uses it as a way to speak to us and grow us in His image.

From Zion, perfect in beauty, God shines forth.   ~Psalm 50:2  ✝

204. The autumn leaves drift by my window, the autumn leaves of red and gold…and soon I’ll hear old winter’s song… ~Excerpts from a tune by Johnny Mercer

There is music in the meadows, in the air…
Leaves are crimson, brown, and yellow…
There is rhythm in the woods,
And in the fields, nature yields…
~Excerpts from LYRIC OF AUTUMN by
William Stanley Braithwaite

Image

It was 1947 when Johnny Mercer borrowed lines from a French song to create the lyrics to his unforgettable melody, AUTUMN LEAVES, a song I find myself singing, at least the parts I remember, almost every year as I tear November’s page off the calendar.  Why?  I don’t know.  The words just seem appropriate when autumn’s persistent winds, wild with leaves, blow wide open the final month’s portals, and this year’s opening was no different.  November’s yet in place blustery gales did in fact sweep December onto its throne.  Once seated, the 12th month opened under bright, sunny skies, but by noon day one had become shrouded in unending shades of gray.   When night fell, there were few, if any, remaining leaves on the redbud and willow at the back of the yard.  The beneficiaries of these as well as the oak’s leaves when they fall are the big island bed and my secret garden in the north corner.  So now not only can my voice be heard singing autumn’s anthems, but wherever these tinted tidbits lie, I’ll be able to hear them crooning their embracing ballads of promise.  And theirs, songs different from the ones in springtime, pledge warmth and declare they’ll keep my plants safe during the bitter, stone-cold days of winter.  But wait, things like trees and leaves sing?  Really? As a matter of fact, according to some Scriptural references and to those of us who listen carefully, they do!

The Lord reigns…Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad; let the sea resound, and all that is in it.  Let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them; let all the trees of the forest sing with joy.  ~Psalm 96:11-12  ✝