Van Gogh World

I almost forgot to write about this day which seemed brighter than all other days. I rose from my bed and felt compelled to see my brother. I called his house and his wife said he was at the farm.

I drove out to the farm, something I used to do quite often, but have not done for a long time. There was no doubt in my mind that I was going there. It is a road I have driven on for over forty years, but today I was in awe of the landscape. The trees were greener, the sky brighter. It looked like a Van Gogh painting come to life with streaks of golden rod running wild in the fields and bushes whose leaves jumped out and shouted, "Look at me! Look at me!" The sky was too blue and the clouds too white. The vividness of it all made me wonder.

Was I imagining this, or was it imagining me? Could it be that I, like Van Gogh, had some deficiency of the brain that made me see this world as a place of wild feelings and unbearably brilliant colors?

It is the way of miracles to be miraculous. It is the way of the listening ear to hear. It is a blessing to do the work I am called to do. And it is even more of a blessing to look back and see that it was so.