Slipping Away

One evening, with my camera in hand, I stepped out onto the balcony of the condo where we (my husband and I, along with two of our grandsons) were spending a week at the beach.

“I almost missed the sunset,” I said to my husband when he joined me a minute or so later.

 

Sure enough, the sun, looking like a huge, orange, beach ball, seemed only a few inches about the horizon line. I worked quickly to try to capture a really good picture of the scene. I changed settings on my camera, selected different focus points, zoomed in and out with my lens, placed the sun in various places within the viewfinder’s frame, and moved to different places along the narrow balcony, hoping all the while to make a photo that would capture at least a little bit of the grandeur my eyes were seeing. 

In less than six minutes after I’d stepped onto the balcony, the sun had slipped below the horizon, seeming to have disappeared in the blue-gray waters of the Gulf of Mexico. It appeared to have submerged into the depths of the ocean, never to return.

As I reflected on that, I thought about how so many things in life seem to slip away so quickly, just like the setting sun. Although the sun had been visible since early morn, it had slowly been making its way toward the horizon line. No one paid much attention to its progress, due to being involved with activities of the day: traveling, working, shopping, swimming, shelling, etc. Perhaps a relatively low percentage of folks paid any attention to the setting of the sun, since that wonder takes place each day. But I did.

As I watched the changes brought about by the setting of the sun, I thought about recent things that had slipped away: A friend’s dad had slipped into eternity last Tuesday. That day had been coming ever nearer for 96 years. But on Tuesday, he slipped away from this life. Another example: a friend  fell in the pasture while she was taking care of her horses and broke her back. Her busy life slipped away, at least temporarily. Whether our blessings disappear ever so gradually or in the blink of an eye, they do slip away. Loved ones. Good health. Jobs. Finances. Opportunities. Abilities….

Therefore, let’s cherish the abundant blessings we have each day, always aware that they, like the setting sun, are slipping away. Some, unlike the sun, won’t return.  

(c) 2012 by Johnnie Ann Burgess Gaskill. To request permission to use, please send an e-mail to johnniegaskillATgmailDOT.com

Sunset--A Time to Celebrate
by
Johnnie Ann Burgess Gaskill

Sunset in the Golden Isles of Georgia

Since I love the beauty of sunsets (and sunrises, too!), I paid particular attention to one of the scenes in a TV documentary. It was an especially lovely one, showing a few palm trees silhouetted against the Pacific Ocean, the horizon, and the darkening sky. But what the narrator said captivated my attention as much as that scene did.

“In Hawaii,” she said, “the evening is set aside as a time to celebrate the rewards of the day. A long-standing custom here is for someone to blow on a seashell and to light torches, signaling the ending of the day.”

While listening to the somber sound made by blowing on the shell, I saw the flickering flames of light coming from the tall torches. Mesmerized, I watched the palm trees swaying gently in the ocean breezes as the sun sank slowly past the horizon. And I thought, “How very peaceful. How fitting to end the day so beautifully, so ceremonially. How wise to stop at evening time to reflect on the rewards of the day, to settle down, and to begin to rest even before going to bed—rather than continuing to work far into the night.”

A few days after I’d had those thoughts, my attention was again captivated by something similar I heard while listening to an audio clip from Leslie Sansone’s book, Eat Smart, Walk Strong. In the section devoted to eating intentionally, she advocates learning to love food and to savor it, rather than eating mindlessly. Approaching food with reverence and celebration helps us to enjoy it more—and, surprisingly, to eat less.

Taking the time to acknowledge something does give it additional honor. I remember, for example, how men used to open car doors for women and hold them open until the ladies were comfortably seated and buckled in. Men did that to show us they respected and cherished us, not because we women weren’t strong enough to open our own doors.

Pulling over while a funeral procession passes by shows respect, too, even though we may not know the deceased or any of the family and friends following the hearse. By stopping for those few minutes, we are saying, “I recognize your loss.”

Yes, pausing throughout the day to recognize people and things is good–for them and for us. The same is true, only much more so, whenever we “let be and be still, and know—recognize that [God] is God” (Psalm 46:10, Amplified Bible).


Sunset seems a particularly good time to do that, especially if we’re acknowledging the sunset as the time to slow down and begin to “celebrate the rewards of the day.”

The Rock Ranch in Upson County, Georgia

Copyright 2006 by Johnnie Ann Burgess Gaskill. To request permission to use, please contact her.