This is our second autumn in Kansas. We have a wonderful assortment of oak, ash, and maple trees whose leaves flash every color from purple to scarlet. Yesterday we saw a bright red oak catching the setting sun in its translucent leaves. The tree radiated joy as the leaves danced in the breeze.
I told Teckla, “I enjoy the changing colors of the trees in our neighborhood.” She quietly said, “I have liked them for a long time.” I did not explain that we have only lived here a year and a half. Even though I knew her comment was the result of her dementia, she expressed a profound truth.
Every new beauty is an old friend. Every taste of Eden, no matter how new, is also something ancient. Every new insight is also a memory of an old truth. Joy flows from a timeless place of beauty. God’s steadfast faithfulness is new every morning. God is always doing a new thing that feels old because of God’s unchanging goodness and majesty.
While looking through old pictures the other day, Teckla picked up a picture of herself in high school and exclaimed, “She is gorgeous!” She was baffled and embarrassed when I explained that it was her. Her memory loss allowed her to see her own beauty more clearly. And of course, it awakened me again to her beauty—especially her beautiful modesty and selflessness. Everyday Teckla is learning something old and new. Me too.
