As surely as the sun will rise…

Your life is not complete until you sleep outside and wake early to watch the sky slowly fill with the light of dawn. My life is now complete. So don’t be surprised if you hear news that I recently died in my sleep, with a smile on my face.

Just joking! But last night I did borrow (aka steal) a friend’s sleeping bag and stake out a bench outside of the visitor center for a one-night bed. The moon was waxing and not quite full, but gave just enough light to write by. I choose the side of the building that faces the Tatoosh Range, since I would be able to see the light of dawn better there – and there seemed to be a warm pocket of air on that side.

Staring at the stars, it’s an odd thought to think of how they’ve stayed the same for so many years. (Yes, slightly changed, but overall…) How poets and travelers and homeless and lovers and writers and rulers and people from all centuries, wearing sweatshirts, robes, hooped skirts, suits, armor, kimonos… have sat and watched the same stars, with much the same thoughts and questions of life in their mind…

It’s an odd thought.

A fox came snuffling by and sat blinking at me about six feet away for a while, as if wondering “what are you doing here?”, before disappearing back into the darkness.

I liberally sprayed myself all over with bug spray – in the past week the mosquitoes have turned me riddled with bites and as twitchy as a man pursued by ax murderers. Fortunately they didn’t bother me this night.

I thank God for my young body, which can hike and work hard and sleep on hard wooden benches, with minimal soreness the next day. I know that this limberness (and yes I looked it up and that’s a word ) will not last long – so I enjoy it now while I can.

I woke by an alarm at 5:30 the next morning, and was at first confused as to why I had set the alarm so early, since it was still dark. I could see Orion just above Pinnacle Peak, and another, brighter star above it to the west – I wish I knew which one it was?

But looking to the east I could tell there was the faintest of lights growing above the hill.

The sky when I woke - 5:42am

It’s amazing how much the sky changes in but a few short minutes. I moved down to the stone wall on the loop road and watched as the sky turned lighter and lighter, from black to a light, pearly blue.

6:06 am

6:25 am

I gave up on my camera in frustration several times, since it couldn’t capture the colors and beauty my eyes saw. But then I would look away from the sky for a few moments and look back, and try again to take a picture capturing what I saw.

That’s one of the neat things about life, I suppose. No matter how much we try to coax our machines to capture the intricacy and colors and wonder of a moment, they fall short every time to our senses. We can only enjoy something to the fullest as we are living it. It makes me wish my memory were a hundred times better. I’m hoping for replays in heaven.

The sun deciding to be lackadaisical and off schedule (okay maybe it just felt like the sun was late in rising ), eventually I stood to stretch my legs and wandered back up to the visitor center, where I took some pictures of the sunlight from the invisible sun playing across Rainier the Mountain.

7:00 am

Having watched the sky slowly lighten for an hour by now, I had plenty of time to ponder whether or not today would be the day the sun would choose to break its own tradition and not rise. (Although what’s the meaning of “not rising”? I suppose that’s really the earth “not revolving”)

Like the stars in the night sky, the sunrise tells a story of constancy. For thousands of years, the sun has not ceased to warm the earth from the precise distance required to maintain life. The battle between the dark and the light, the delicate balance that results and that has not changed once (barring Joshua 10), is in itself either proof of a remarkable and coincidental machine, set ticking and now dangling in the emptiness of space, or of a God that does not remove His hand of protection from our world, but watches over every detail from the rising of the sun, to a bee setting wing, to the tide rising and falling.

I also thought of the story “The Day Boy and the Night Girl (The Romance of Photogen and Nycteris)” by George MacDonald.

And watched the horizon.

Finally.

7:08 am

As surely as the sun will rise...

...You'll come to us

...Certain as the dawn appears

"Get out of bed, Jerusalem! Wake up. Put your face in the sunlight. God's bright glory has risen for you. The whole earth is wrapped in darkness, all people sunk in deep darkness, But God rises on you, his sunrise glory breaks over you." - Isaiah 60, The Message

It is a marvelous thing to wait and watch for the sun, wondering if it will arrive, and feeling a great sense of gladness when it does.

I felt almost proud of the sun, as if I had helped it up, like a child's parent cheering them on. Yeah, sun, you did it!

And with the transition from darkness to light complete and the world set at rights again, I set off back to my bed and a shower. After snapping a few more pictures.

Can you believe this miracle happens every day?

Flowers of Paradise

Ah, the post you’ve all… well, perhaps you haven’t been waiting for it, but I’ve been planning it for a long time so it feels like you’ve been waiting for it. If that makes any sense.

I’ve been realizing my sad ignorance concerning trails around Paradise – I’ve become so accustomed to traveling to snow-free places to hike, that now that the snow up here has melted and the customers are asking “where does this trail go?” “how long will it take to hike this trail?” I have no answer but “uhhhh… ask the all-knowing rangers!”

By the way our nickname for the rangers is Power Rangers. I thought you should know.

Continuing on: So this Monday I set out to explore the nearby trails. I hiked up to Myrtle Falls (a mere half mile from my dorm!), continued on the Skyline Trail, then traveled down to the Loop Road, continued along the Loop Road until I reached the main road, where I waited until the employee shuttle came by.

Insert Map:

I didn’t even think about how I could have hiked back on that trail that goes straight from Paradise River to Paradise Inn, until I made this map… Oh well.

So yes, that was my marvelous Monday hike.

But what I really mean to post about, and what the title and first paragraphs refer to, is the wildflowers! They’re not as plentiful this year (from what I’ve heard), but if you keep your eyes open they’re everywhere. I’ve taken pictures of as many different kinds as I can find nearby, here they are:

Supalpine Daisy

 

 

I’ve labeled these best I can with my wildflower brochure… click on any photo to see it larger.

Sitka Valarian

Broadleaf Arnica

Rosy Spirea

Paintbrush

Alpine Aster

Subalpine Buttercup

 

 

You wouldn’t think of flowers as moving objects, but with the wind that day, they were!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cascade Huckleberry

These beautiful green plants are everywhere!

Break from flowers - it's a marmot!

Myrtle Falls

And back to wildflowers... these are "Pasqueflowers"

Spreading Phlox

Avalanche Lily

Jeffrey Shooting Stars

 

That’s all the flowers I’ve captured so far, hope you enjoyed my show of my photography skills & Paradise’s beauty.

I don’t want to hear those words… (One Man, One Woman)

I wrote this a couple days ago when a guy said something about my appearance… I ran down to the rec room to get something and he called me sexy. I think he had been drinking, ha ha. But I came back to my room and my mind was in a turmoil, and I hated how those words made me feel… like a piece of meat, or an object, belittled and not valued…

So I wrote this down. “Those words” below doesn’t necessarily refer to “sexy”, could just be “beautiful”…

Okay I’ll stop talking.

 

 

I don’t want to hear those words.

I didn’t realize it til now, but when I dressed this morning, and looked at myself in the mirror as I made sure everything was perfect, I was thinking about those words, and hoping the eyes that saw me would think them, and maybe someone would say them, but now, as you grin at me and say the words I realize I wanted to hear, I just want to cover my ears and run away from your stare.

I wanted those words, I now realize, but I didn’t want them this way. I didn’t want how I looked on the outside – the way the sun shone on my hair and the way everything happened just so to make me look amazing – to draw the words from you, words flowing not from love of my character, but from a lust for my looks. I didn’t want you to say those words that you say to every pretty girl. I want to be special, set apart in your eyes.

Is it too much to ask, that you only look on me that way? When I see that lust and want for me in your eyes, is it too much to ask that I be the only one you desire?

One man, one woman. That’s how You created us, Lord, how You set forth marriage to be.

One man, one woman.

If I keep myself pure for one man – refuse to look on others in a way I should not, even as I now wait for what may never come – is there any guarantee there will be a man out there, waiting for one woman, that will be me?

I have set standards this world laughs at and does not respect. Our claims are opposites and cannot exist together – they claim happiness comes from being free, I hold to God’s promise that there is greater joy in being bound to one man.

You have set me apart, I will be set apart in all that I do. Now ends chasing after meaningless words. Now begins finding my All in You.

Whether or not my one man comes along, who will choose me as his one woman to be bound to him for life, I choose now to wait for him. And to stay pure for him.

The Beauty Within

This was my second entry to the Writing Contest, which earned an honorable mention. I’m posting it because I haven’t posted in a long time!! =)

Some people say that mankind is like a meadow of flowers swaying together. The bluebell looks at the lily and wistfully wonders why it was not gifted with such beauty – while the lily gazes at the rose and covets its vibrant colors. Unable to look upon ourselves, it’s only when another holds up a mirror and we see our reflection that we realize the beauty within.
The name of my mirror-holder was René. He sought me out at a time when even my own mother kept me stirring soup in the kitchen, so as not to scare away the boarding house guests with my deformed face and figure. Whether I was dusting, or mopping, or peeling potatoes, he would always find me and sit for hours spinning tales of his past adventures, or playing melodies on his violin. His kindness and patience as he listened to my stuttering speech brought me to realize that here, in this unlikely, grey haired man, I had found my first friend.
And with this friend came the key to unlock my chains. Cursed for so long to look upon fair flowers in this world’s meadow, I had learned to live with my eyes closed, inside my mind. René released my inner world the day he laid his violin in my callused hands and offered to teach me. It turned out he was offering to teach a duck how to swim.
I invented entire tunes on the spot, playing them as they wound through my mind. Even in the beginning when the notes came out squeaky, guests paused in the kitchen door and listened with mouths agape.
“My music is magical,” I told René, my tongue stumbling over the words. “It blinds them to my ugliness.”
He only shook his head. “It awakens them to your beauty.”
On that day I didn’t believe what he said. But now I know he spoke the truth. When my mother listened to me fiddle Papa’s favorite song, she realized she had been blind to a daughter who loved her. When the guests heard my slow, sweet songs in the evening, they knew they had overlooked the scullery maid too quickly. And when Jacques Depaul, a great composer, watched me play one of his complex songs by ear, he saw greatness hidden within my soul.

Several years have passed since René first laid his worn violin in my hands.
I stand in the darkness of the stage wing, swathed in an ethereal white dress. I know I look like a mottled cake poorly covered with icing, but I straighten my shoulders and tuck my violin – my voice – beneath my chin.

They announce my name, Marjorie Chevalier, to the king of France, and lights illuminate the stage. I take a deep breath and step forward, into the light, the sound of my music filling the lofty hall until it makes the chandeliers tremble. This song is a thank you to my mirror-holder – to René.