The Sunset Tree, in all its brilliance, has held so many rainbows high on the horizon, so many sunsets in the forever stretching western Kansas sky.
The weight of that glory from a million sunsets and a few hundred rainbows was too heavy, as the trees arms grew tired with wind whistling at her back storms blowing her branches for centuries. She lifted her arms to the most brilliant sunset her tree eyes had ever seen, then beheld a cloud full of lightning and wind coming her way. She smiled as the wind blew her branches. The leaves clapped for joy and danced in the wind and rain. She sighed, breathed out, her core broken, and gave her spirit up to God and her body to the wind.
There was a loud thud heard for a mile, earthy dust billowing from beneath her windswept body. The dust held a magic though—it knew the secrets of the tree, the glory it held had seeped into the earth, wildly electrifying everything around it with living life.
The dust that sparkled blew and blew and blew away on the wind, far as the eye could see. The magic landed here and there, glory to be found only with the most careful eye, by the Noticers. These souls are special. God gave their spirit eyes a gift to see the glimmer of God in the wind, through prairies, over mountains, desert savannah’s and high on the seas.
If you are a Noticer, you already know. In sleepy dreams or awake, you know that glory, and you are learning it by name. You don’t know what to call it, but you will. Just notice for now. You will grow into your soul eyes in time.
Live in wide eyed wonder for what holds up sunsets and rainbows. Tell your secrets, but only to a few.
You have probably guessed, but I am a Noticer too—So, my sacred bit of wisdom to you is this-
Every evening when the sun is setting, keep your eyes alert for magic especially then. Everything glitters in sunlight and moonlight. The places in the morning where the night fades into day…you will find the glory spots most bright.
Look for the trees that awaken the day with songs of praise. The yellow flowers on the hill beaming back the magic light of morning light back to the sun, the birds that sing the loudest are the ones who used to perch on the old wise branches of The Sunset Tree. They are her messengers. Listen to them.
These are only the places I have seen the sparkle of glory. So it’s your turn to Notice and tell about the places my eyes have not seen. Look high, look low, and do tell, but only to a few
There is a sacred to this glory
You will only understand one day when you are maybe as old as the Sunset Tree on the hill that once held up the Western sky. Listen, watch, wonder, and Notice the glory most especially when you see the sparkle of your own eyes in a mirror.
You sparkle and shine with the dust of the earth alive with the glory of the One whose hand created, and feet that once walked on it. I see it in your soulish eyes. Do you?