Thursday, June 5, 2014

In which the sky reminds me

Tonight's sky looked like a water cup you use for dipping and cleaning your paint brush in. The initial contact is slow and magical, introducing this vibrant blue to water that's only known transparency. The next color it meets only turns the water that murky, cloudy grey. And that's what the sky looked like tonight. The whole process. The blue was icy, and the grey came quick. There were two spots on the horizon that begged to differ, though. Far from each other and only barely holding out against the grey, the clouds opened up to reveal peaches and purples. They were utterly lit with setting sunshine. They were so far away, and the air around me was still icy blue cold, but there they were. Utterly lit.

It reminded me of Sunday. I drove home in the dark, and the traffic around me was like brief highlights of yellows and oranges. But mostly I remember it was just very dark. It was the kind of drive that warranted some great, big, silent tears and mental preparation for a sad Monday. Because those are the worst. But here it is, Thursday evening, and I'm being given a sermon by the sky. Yes, there is icy cool wind, and yes, there are dark and murky greys. But behind those clouds are summer blues and peaches and purples. There is a horizon utterly lit in joyous fashion, and just because the darkness bullies its way across the sky, doesn't mean those colors are quenched. They are still there, and the hometown fields will be touched by them again when the day is reborn tomorrow.

My heart may have ached on Monday, and today, and tomorrow, and the next however long, but that does not mean that I haven't experienced the peaches and purples of cuddles from my snuggle bug brother, or laugh-out-loud-sing-along Adele sessions with my best friend, or moments given straight from God that I'll cherish forever. We must look for the horizon and the patches of sky colored with hope. The darkness makes the light more radiant. And while my bitterness towards the dark still abides, I think I can take one hand away from my eyes to lift it to the Lord with a simple and timid appreciation for that fact. That the darkness just makes the light more radiant.