This is another shot from the same Sunday evening, a few weeks ago, that was featured in last Sunday’s Pic 4 Today. Last Sunday it was the Skimmers crossing below the setting sun. This one was taken facing exactly the opposite way, away from the sunset, with the birds (White Pelicans and Terns) framed against the few clouds over the Indian River and Merritt Island which caught and reflected the reddening light. Perhaps because I know it was one of the last images taken that day, it has a going home…going to rest…feeling about it: but perhaps the feeling is actually part of the image, for anyone who knows the rhythms of the natural world.

Canon SX40HS at about 335mm equivalent field of view. f5 @ 1/125th @ ISO 250. Program with iContrast and –1/3EV exposure compensation.

Processed in Lightroom to bring up the color, and for intensity, vibrancy, and sharpness. Cropped from the top for composition.

And for the Sunday thought: Going home. Going to rest. Part of the natural rhythm of the world. I had a little heart attack scare this week…an unplanned trip to the ER in an ambulance, oxygen, ekgs, x-rays…the whole thing. Turns out it was a strange combination of symptoms caused by indigestion and incipient bronchitis…with maybe a touch of pneumonia. Better safe than sorry.

And I find that I am not really troubled by the event. A thing like that might well bring thoughts and fears centered on mortality, but I am pretty much okay with it. Better safe than sorry. I am safe.

Of course I have no idea how I would have responded if the results of the test had gone the other way. I would like to think that, like the birds against the sunset, I would have seen it as all part of the natural rhythm of life. The birds are going to their night home…to their night roost…and they have no doubt in their minds that dawn will follow the darkness, and they will wake refreshed for another day.

Of course, as far as we know, they have no hope either. Hope is a human…thought? emotion? feeling? concept?…I am not sure there is a word in English to describe what hope is in the human mind and heart. But I do know that hope is a decision…it is a verb…it is something we decide to do, based on all the evidence available to us. We go home, we go to our rest, with (or without) hope in our hearts. It is up to us.

I chose hope. My faith demands it…my faith authorizes it…and, I believe, my faith justifies it. Come night, come dawn, I will wake refreshed for another day. All part of the rhythm. All part of the life of faith.

As true when lying on a gurney in ER sucking down oxygen, as it is on a beach in Florida watching the Pelicans and Terns head for roost against clouds reflecting the setting sun.