The Ones That Glow

I write in the sunroom of our house, an area that's actually a converted carport. It's a spacious, albeit drafty, room with three walls of side-by-side, uncovered, floor-to-ceiling windows. I love this space because of the natural light and the unobstructed view of my backyard and beyond.

The past few days, this gorgeous golden tree is what I see when I look up from my computer. The picture does not begin to capture its beauty. Other years it has been pretty, but this season, the colors in the leaves are so brilliant they don't look real.

Maybe creative people see things differently than others. All I know is that I can hardly pull my eyes from this tree. I have stood at the nearest window, my morning coffee mug in hand, and wept at its loveliness.

Here is something surprising, something you may not know. I'm told that the unusually bright colors of this year's fall leaves are, in part, the result of the past summer's terrible drought, one that turned lake shores into mud and killed even the most carefully-tended shrubs and grass. I don't know the science that explains the reason why, but the fact is, exceptionally beautiful fall leaves often follow behind unusually dry summers.

I see the same phenomenon in the lives of some people I know -- folks who've experienced unimaginably dusty, thirsty times in their lives. Good friends who have survived terrible times when they wondered when, if ever, healing rains would fall on their parched souls.

These, the dear ones who have survived the hot dry summer to enjoying the refreshment of fall, are some of the most beautiful people I know. I see in them, hope, faith, and love. They are the ones who, after surviving the terrible drought, glow like no others.

I am rich to have these people in my life.

They are like the tree outside my window.

Stunning.

And they know who they are.