Infinity in My Lap: Light, Lace, and Laminate

School and life conspired to keep me from posting about music as I'd planned. That post is in progress, but not quite ready.

Meanwhile, I had another brush with infinity. With something as simple as a shirt hanging on a chair.

It wasn't the shirt or the chair, though. It was the light. The light coming through the window that caught my eye and took hold of my heart. I just sometimes cannot believe what a beautiful and mind-boggling thing light is. Coming from Brother Sun so many miles away from us that I cannot really pretend to comprehend the distance . . . and without this light our very existence is impossible.

Of course there are ways of measuring the distance, the light, the heat. But compared to our little lives, the light may as well be infinite. It is certainly beyond us. And it is pure gift.

And such a powerful gift can fall on tiny little human-sized objects and make them beautiful.

So I took some pictures.

The table and chairs belonged to my grandparents; it was the first table they ate at after marrying each other. After some decades, Grandmother had a laminate finish put on the top. At some point it was moved down to the basement room, and I spent many happy hours down there wrapping Christmas gifts for her, the ones she hadn't yet gotten to. I loved wrapping gifts, and I loved how she always said what a good job I did. And I loved the meals she prepared, which my wrapping allowed her to stay focused on!

So the table is part of the moment of infinity, the connection to love that is living now beyond this world, beyond this sun. In even brighter light, I trust.