The Crimson Monks

The smell of wood burning greets my nose as I close the patio door behind me, heading to my favorite swing.  The wind blows large chunks of clouds through the sky and as I sit and examine my back yard.  In a trance, I realize I am witnessing a rhythmic dance of swirling and twirling, weaving and flipping, reds, browns, oranges, and yellow splotches.

The wind is icy and makes me pack my scarf tighter.  Don’t you just love the first time in autumn you get to don your scarf?  It’s an instrument of surety that fall has dawned!

Is it just me, or do the colors of fall seem more vibrant with a grey backdrop?  As I sit to read in this colorful and intoxicating scene, two crimson hooded monks exit the same door I have just closed, running with glee towards the swirling ocean of leaves that are ebbing and swelling across the yard.  Their delight pouring over as their little legs propel them, the younger, as usual, tells his older brother from behind, “I will beat you!”

I learned once where cappuccinos received their name from.  A dollop of steamed foam would be added to the top of espresso.  This “cap” was triangular and pointed and brown, very similar to the hooded monks who had made their abode near these coffee epicenters.  Thus, the name “Cappuccino” was born.

That’s how my sons look with their crimson jackets with the hoods up.  My little red cappuccino monks begin to throw handfuls of leaves into the air and onto each other.  Then, they begin to “rake” the leaves with their feet into a small pile, where the oldest is instructing the younger that they will jump into it when it is big enough.

They call for me to come join them.  I look at my book that I just opened then back to them.  These times are rare.  The choice is simple.  With a short sigh, I close my book and tromp out to “rake” leaves with my boys.

We laugh, we play, we compete for the largest leaf, and genuinely enjoy each others’ company.

Thank you God for little crimson monks, crisp fall days, moments that remind us that we were made for something greater.  Thank you for affections that run deep in light of your truth.


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