Hope-filled Skies

What is it about winter that creates such amazing sun events?

A recent sunrise awed and humbled me as I watched at my kitchen window. What began as a few orange feathers soon turned into a mosaic of turquoise and terra cotta.

Then the sky danced. Ripples of wavy color expanded across the early Saturday palette. Like the fingers of God caressing his canvas with each change of color and texture.

Tears rivered down my cheeks as I imagined the Great Artist fashioning each moment just for me. Oh sure — other people around the world also observed this particular sunrise.

But it felt as if God and I communed on a new level. He showed off, and I gladly received his shameless promotion.

Then it was done as the sky became its usual wintry blue with only a hint of what had been so bold before.

But I was changed — ready to begin the day with words, to coach clients and edit books, to fashion my own plots with more intentional urgency. To write while there is time.

Nothing however compares to the sunset I experienced in Santa Fe.

A new friend and I walked in her subdivision, flanked by the Sangre de Cristo and Sandia mountain ranges. A comfortable September evening wrapped its early autumn calm around us as we chatted.

Then the sunset began — ribbons of color that felt familiar yet unique. An immediate underscoring of why Santa Fe is known for its sunsets.

We paused for a while and watched it expand across the desert landscape, cacti thorny arms reaching upward.

Then twilight began with its dark blue and twinkles of stars to come. We turned around, satisfied with the evening show and ready to finish the day.

But as we circled toward my friend’s house, another sunset formed. It interrupted the night sky with even more vibrant colors of intense light. Cerulean blues surrounded by beams of yellow trimmed in shimmering white.

A double sunset in one evening. Definitely a Santa Fe artistic moment.

I think of that sunset often, especially when I feel homesick for Santa Fe. The surprise and delight coupled with our worshipful “Ah-h-hs” as we expressed our praise of God’s handiwork.

Someday in eternity, I want Abba Father to show me how he makes such beauty. Each morning and evening a new mercy of his artful faithfulness.

I want him to teach me how to paint such brilliance in the sky, then sit back and whisper, “It is good.”

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