There’s a peace that overwhelms me when I look at the evening sky. When the last of the suns rays are fading behind the mountains. The colors produced are ones that can’t be imitated. The darkness of the mountains is stark against the vibrant colors. The stars have yet to make their majestic entrance. It’s the moment where transition seems almost frightening. Will it be a starlit night or will the clouds roll in masking their grandeur? The fleeting moments of daylight illuminate peaks of high mountains that could be viewed as ominous. That transition where you are trying to figure out what will happen next. But when I look at that thin line of beauty, I am at peace. All the questions of the day are far from me and my soul settles. I am not pondering the vastness of space or the stars. I’m not contemplating the mountain ridges. I am thanking God for that last ray. That last stroke of color on his painting of the day. Thanking him for the air, my family, my friends. Thanking him that no matter where I am, physically, mentally or emotionally, he is there. His creation is my reminder. My ongoing souvenir. He is always with me. Always.
In life there are moments of transition where we may lose all of our peace. Where the evanescent rays of what lit our lives are sinking behind dark and ill lit mountains. Where uncertainty looms and the stars are not capturing our gaze and making us look upward. That moment we have a choice. We can abandon hope. We can count it all as lost. Or, we can realize that the sliver left is our memory and that God has bigger and better things waiting at the dawn of the next journey.