It’s 12:45pm and I’m sitting in my bedroom, typing this.

I can see the back and side of the house next door out of my window.

Beyond and above is something that catches my heart and gives me such joy. The color of sharp blue autumn sky creates an infinite canvas for the trees. Their leaves are gold now, and the breeze pulls them down one by one.

Gold against the sky’s blue is one of my favorite color combinations.

It is simply so breathtaking.

What aches my heart is that this beauty is as full as it can possibly be - even though it is only here for a short time. Even now, the light is changing.

I’ve known Mary since before I was aware of that knowing. Our parents met when we were toddling around on tiny feet and baby legs, when thoughts were beginning to form into words. When we were just making our acquaintance with the world.

That length and strength of connection is a total gift. Right now, right this second, I am thanking God.

I appreciate Mary. The fact that she is so herself. She runs on a different kind of motor than I do.

She’ll say her life is busy. And it is. Not a lot of down time. But she uses her down time. She reads. She thinks. She plans. She gathers people. She connects. There is a fullness there that makes me think–

1) How does she do it?

2) Can I? Do I have my own version of “fullness” too?

What you see when you meet Mary is total engagement. She spends her time, her days, her talents, her passions, her heart.

“Go up into the gaps. If you can find them; they shift and vanish, too. Stalk the gaps. Squeak into a gap in the solid, turn, and unlock–more than a maple–a universe. This is how you spend this afternoon, and tomorrow morning, and tomorrow afternoon. Spend the afternoon. You can’t take it with you.”

–from Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard