Sunset, viewed from behind a pot of scorched rosemary. Pink sky. Long blue shadows. Sunset.
Sometimes I cry as I watch dusk fall. Makes me think of someone I love very much. Someone who isn't here... who won't ever be. I miss him. I never wanted to see all these days slip into darkness without him. A trusted friend slipped me a book... oh, months ago. The Language of Letting Go. I read it often and pray my prayers and hope on a new day... on the thought that joy comes with the morning. And with each sunset I find peace and promise. Some more than others, but always a little peace and always a bit of promise.
Isn't it encouraging to know that God is eternal? I see a sunset and think of the millions that have come before and the ones that I am allowed to glimpse and my heart feels heavy with awe. He is lovely. He is good. And my hopeless hopes, no matter how scorched... no matter how over... pale in comparison to the beauty He has waiting for me. To the glory I'll one day behold in Him.
When I admire the colors, the shadows, the streaks, and the fading of a sunset, my own soul expands in thanks and worship of the Creator.
Weeping may tarry for the night,
But joy comes with the morning.
-Psalms 30:5