I miss things that others catch.
Paul gazes from the window and notices the crops that neighbouring farmers have planted.
I wonder, "How does he know what is in the field?" I wouldn't know winter wheat from barley, but he does, and he sees a hawk in flight instantly, while I am gazing in vain to spot it.
My friend Susan notices all sorts of things that I am oblivious to--her eyes are tuned to things out of order and she bustles around after cell group, straightening chairs, folding the table liner just so, sweeping the floor if I let her--a labour of love.
But ah, the sky--that I never miss.
"Maybe it's just too big to miss," you might laughingly say. Well that is so. The sky is big, a canvas God paints on and speaks to me through all the time!
Yesterday morning I drove to work feeling like a dart speeding through the air to the bulls eyes of tasks waiting.I had deadlines to meet; my priorities were in order. I reached for my CD player to listen to an almost finished audio book on the 20 minute journey when I looked up and changed my mind. Instead the sky captured me.
The sun was shining through a cloud window looking like a small pillar of pale gold in a cream satin sky. All the way down the highway I felt that the beauty was a gift to accompany me. I felt the peace of God with me.
At the end of the day I left an hour early because of an evening trip north for a Christmas dinner in Huntsville. The same gold pillar peeped through the clouds as though it had shown up especially for my return journey home.
At home I quickly combed my hair, put on lipstick, powdered my nose and gathered up some Christmas cards and my camera. Paul and I set out into an evening on which the curtain of night had now descended and began the journey north on highway 400.
A full moon hung above us and I watched it all the way. It played peek-a-boo in the clouds, sometimes hiding behind a lacy gray veil feigning playful shyness. As we drove further north, silhouetted conifers pointed heavenward.
Again, I felt peace and a sense of timelessness. The hustle and bustle of the season fell away. I imagined our blue planet spinning in space; the things that seemed so pressing and important that morning were nothing in the big scheme of God's universe. I had done my best and was content to leave the rest with God.
On the way home today from an afternoon of shopping the western sky outdid any painted by Turner. Beams of gold light shone in all directions from behind softest peach clouds in a sky of pale robins egg blue. It took my breath away and I thought that heaven could hardly be more beautiful.
Thou Maker and Sustainer of all things,
day and night are thine,heaven and earth declare thy glory