I had plans to spin the last few week's difficulties away salsa dancing tonight, but I'll be curled up with a movie and soup instead. Bean and sausage soup is one of God's great gifts to mankind, but it sure can't beat moving to pulsing Latin rhythms. Also, I'm craving bacon. Also, pasta. Also, my nose is about to fall off. So I'll be sure to catch the sunset from my backyard lookout point tonight. Watching the sunset has become the spoonful of sugar that helps all my medicine go down.
In fact, watching the sun set has become a balm to almost all of my life ills. When I'm sick or discouraged or afraid of the future, I try to catch the sunset. And for seven minutes it makes me happy to be me, right where I am. It feels like a warm breeze stirring up something new inside of me. It reminds me how small I am and how big and beautiful God is. It makes gratitude easy. It opens me to joy.
Last Tuesday, a couple of days into my flood mayhem, a girlfriend and I decided to catch the beach sunset. When we arrived, the beach was almost deserted, except for a few surfers. The wind whistled and the seagulls settled on the sand to watch the sun sink into the sea. We stood with them, looking at the expansive sky, a pale canvas of wispy clouds. And then, right on God's cue, the sun reached across the sky-canvas and began to finger-paint with fire.
Amber, tangerine, and pink pulsing with electricity — it was a sunset for the history books: a glowing reminder that life is a gift to be unwrapped with gratitude and stewarded with joy.
© by scj