The Gift of Sky

Emily hosts a lovely blog called Chatting At The Sky. On Tuesdays, she hosts "Tuesdays Unwrapped." "Share a photo," she says, "a story, or anything that offers a glimpse into your own journey of discovering the gifts in the midst of the ordinary."

Here's my picture gift for today, and a how it came to be.

From early childhood, I’ve been enthralled with all things in the sky. The stars. The moon. The sun. The planets. The clouds. I remember as a little girl staring into the heavens on clear nights, wishing for all I was worth upon the brightest star I could find. And don’t tell me there wasn’t a man in the moon. You came too late. I had seen him. I had talked to him. His eyes kept watch over me always.

These days, I no longer talk to the man in the moon (although the Maker of the moon and I have great conversations), but I am still fascinated by the heavens. And I especially delight in sunrises and sunsets. I consider them personal paintings from the Creator to the created.

The thing about sunrises and sunsets, I’ve never seen the same one twice. And while they’re all divine, there are some that cause me to grab my chest and go, “Wow!”

Saturday evening, my husband and I were seated at an outdoor table at Fisherman’s Wharf overlooking the marina in beautiful Destin, Florida. The view of the water, dotted with fishing vessels and yachts, was mesmerizing, but I was somewhat disappointed that the sun was shrouded in a thick blanket of clouds. I would miss a glorious sunset.

As twilight deepened, I happened to glance eastward, and that’s when my mouth fell open. The setting sun’s reflection had created a most magnificent work of art. Had it been a clear night, I would’ve missed this glorious sight altogether—God wrapping up the day in His own matchless way.

I reached for my camera, then clutched my chest and said, “Wow!”