Looking through the viewfinder, searching for God.
I took a drive yesterday morning – I had the abnormal Monday off (thank you bank holiday weekend!) and decided to explore close to where I live, so I drove to Florence, AZ to see something new and try out my new camera. Country road to get there, tiny small-town America feel to it. The thing that set it aside from all the other small-town America places is that it is in the Phoenix metro basin, east of Chandler.
To get there from South Chandler you drive through the Gila River Indian Community. As the heat index climbed and I looked out through the windshield over the vista, my thoughts focused on the word “scorched”, as in hot. Nothing but cactus and blistering sun. And no, I didn’t stop for pictures. We are beyond the season of pleasant here, into the season of hot.
The image above isn’t outside of Florence but it is in southeastern Arizona and it gives a sense of the open space, of the heat – heat that rises up unrelentingly from the desert floor.
That scenery changes as you near Florence, where modern agriculture meets Arizona desert and there are green fields unfolding before you, showing their bounty as they ready for harvest.
Even with the encroachment of civilization, the sense of emptiness remained. Yes, it was early on a Monday of a 3-day weekend, but the town itself seemed somewhat empty. Holding its breath, waiting.
Knowing that God is in all things, in the fullness and in the emptiness, I wandered around a bit, finding the statue shown in the image below in the meditation garden of a RC Church.
And since today is the feast of the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary, I thought, well, how fitting. I’ll use this.
We give thanks for the emptiness as well as the fullness. We give thanks for the one who emptied herself so that the Word could live.