I drove home from chores late this afternoon - and happened upon my favorite time of day.
The sun had begun its lingering slide down the sky, stretching to kiss the mountaintops and move on to a morning in someone else's day. The sharp blue shadows on the hills grew inch by inch, wrapping the cliffs and rocky outcroppings in a dusky blanket, tucking them in for the night.
Driving into the sun was at the perfect spot in time - high enough that my visor could block out the brightness so I could see, and low enough to outline the grey, dirty-footed clouds in silvery backlight - while in between was the deep turquoise sky of the Southwest.
My heart was face down in worship as I drove. The spectacular colors and variegation splashed themselves on the walls of my soul and I felt something ease there, like a sore muscle with a healing warmth settling around it, in the exact spot to bring the greatest comfort. Thank You, Papa!
And again, not for the first time, I thought how sad it is for the people who depersonalize creation into a vague imaginary evolution - for which there is not a single fossil of verification, by the way. (Surely there should be at least one.)
But I digress.
The One Who formed each and every ray of light, arranged for those rays to lengthen and bend each evening, turning the sky into wild splashes of orange and purple and flaming reds. They all melt and blend into an ever-deepening dusky blue that settles on the dimming bits of gold with a kiss.
What glory and honor is due to such a magnificent Artist!
It is full night now - and yet the colors and swirling sensations are with me still. I see the silver outlines, the lengthening shadows, the steadily decreasing glimmer of the sun as it sets.
And, as always, in spite of the pollution and destruction and degrading of His crowning creation, I think to myself :"What must Eden have been?"