The other morning Izzy and I got up early...so early!...to make a quick trip to Salt Lake City. She had an appointment for a violin lesson later that day, so there was some concern as to the length of the drive and whether we would make it on time.
My husband looked at me with an expression which I think was meant to convey the gravity of the situation.
"Kirsten," he said, "You can't stop to take pictures along the way. You just can't. There won't be enough time."
And I responded with a look which conveyed the total lack of warrant for such concern.
"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about!"
As comebacks go, this was a real medal contender.
We got in the car and it wasn't three minutes down the road before I saw something I wanted to stop and take a picture of. But I remembered my promise, my charge, how everything was riding on my inconstant ability to focus...and drove on.
BUT. Later on, as we drove along the highway, I saw something which took my breath away and which I knew would forever beckon in my mind if I didn't try to capture some of its majesty. I wavered...and wavered...then pulled over...a quarter mile down the road from the thing which took my breath away.
"Hang on, Izzy," I said to my sleepy daughter, "Mummy's going to go for a little run."
And I took off, running down that highway like all the times I have ever run down a highway: laughing, galloping, trucking, charging, running for my life, drinking in the fresh air, feeling happy, high, and alive.
I was vaguely concerned the passing motorists might wonder and worry about my behavior, but in retrospect, perhaps it makes sense no one stopped to question me.
But this, dear reader. Who wouldn't stop for this? A wheel line left on perhaps imprudently through the night, freezing a single stretch of land in the midst of an endless, sprawling pasture?
Oh, Spring! Oh, Life! Oh, glorious world!
I could have stopped every inch of every mile along that road and turned in every degree of an entire circle and there would have been some sight which stole my heart and made me ache with the beauty of this earth, with the changes and nuances brought by the passage of time, with stark and subtle contrasts, with a great, underlying sense of goodness and order which impresses my soul with the existence of a supreme and deeply loving Creator.
But this was the only time I stopped because it had to be enough, given the circumstances.
It was enough.
And Izzy got to her lesson on time.