Tonight we trample down high grass overgrown, escaping to a field.
The evening sky sags heavy with purple, all trimmed out in gold, and we race for a better view.
I remind them again what the Bible says, about the heavens declaring the glory of God.
Belle asks what is glory, and I look to her daddy to answer such a weighty question.
Who can define glory; how can we wrap our minds around it?
I step into golden spotlight; my heart swells, and I laugh with joy at the sight blinding.
I have learned from my Selah.
I ask belle if she can feel it, God's love right in this moment of beauty.
She feels no hugs or kisses concrete and nods confused.
Till her daddy bends down and plants love right on her head.
"I feel that," she smiles.
"Well, that's God's love for you right there. Who do you think puts the love in daddy's heart for you?"
Judah, his warrior heart outdone by the lover within,
scurries about oblivious to all he's missing,
dipping sun glittering all she touches.
We are in a field full of life, every weed a flower for his mama.
Historically (in the car, on a walk, outside a business) with every flower we pass he speaks up
"I wish I could pick those dandelions for mama."
Tonight, he is overwhelmed by sheer volume, and picks feverishly, delivering blossom by blossom.
Clover and queen anne's lace grace my fingertips, never more beautiful.
My hands are heavy with purple, my heart all trimmed out in gold.
And I understand glory.