It was a normal morning—for just a little while.
Peg and I were on our way to Mass. When we turned east off Longwood’s Sabal Palm Drive onto Hwy 434, it ceased to be normal.
There, displayed in the distance, was a panorama of color as I’d never before seen in a sunrise. There were layers of golden orange, here and there a touch of red, and streaks of a rather dull blue-gray—and to the left, hovered a huge, soft-blue cloud with a brilliant white lining on its crest. Off to the right was an “uncertain” cloud, sort of grey in color, with no distinct shape, just sort of stretched out as though reaching for or away from the sun.
Every time we headed east, there was that glorious gift from God.
I wonder how many people noticed it.
I wonder whether God gives us such beauty just to remind us that all is well, that we are important to him, that indeed every cloud has a silver lining.
I wonder whether God is telling us that there is, behind that cloud with its silver lining, a brilliance that suffocates sadness, calms anger, soothes grief, enlightens minds and heals wounded souls.
Thank God for normal.