Chasking sky

A few weeks ago, I saw the most spectacular sunset as I was headed home.  I caught myself speeding a little, wanting to make it to a certain part of the road that is more on a hill before it was completely gone, taking all of it's amber and violet with it.  In my head I was imagining what a conversation with a police officer might sound like if I told him I was chasing the sky because I wanted to watch the sun go down.

It was captivating though.  I felt my heart quicken, wanting to pull over and watch, not to miss a moment of it.

There isn't much time to sit and watch sunsets these days it seems.  With all of the busy and the doing and going, there seems to be fewer moments to soak in beauty.  And to let it soak in to me.

Tommy was enamored with my fascination about this whole sunset business.  He got excited right along with me declaring how beautiful it was.  When I finally got to my neighborhood, I pulled off to the side of the road, got out of my car and took a picture.  The sun had already dipped below the horizon and my heart literally ached when I realized I had missed it's final moments.

I am missing everything!!! - my heart said.  And in that moment I realized how much a sunset could draw out of me.  Where guilt and shame, obligation and responsibility, longing and dreams are all colliding for me at the moment.

"Let's go play in it!"  Tommy suggested.  As if it there were muddy puddles or snow on the ground. 

But, play in the last light of the sun - I would have never thought of it.  It made me smile.  Had Jacob not been in the back seat blowing spit bubbles and needing to be put down for the night, I would have accepted his invitation to play.  I told him we would be on the lookout for another sunset soon and we could play in that one together.

Even though the sun was gone, the sky still glowed from its presence.  One last glimmer of light before the darkness, before rest and quiet night.

Days later, an ordinary blue-sky afternoon, Tommy declared that the sky was amazing and asked me if I thought it was beautiful.  He went on and on about the blue sky and suggested I needed to get a picture of it also.  And I suppose it was lovely, but it was obvious that I wasn't as in to an ordinary blue summer sky at 2:00 in the afternoon as I would be to see it rise or set. 

But there was my son in the backseat, remembering our sky-chasing adventure.  Looking up, looking for beauty, taking notice, seeing not just a blue sky, but something more. 

And there in that moment, in all that my heart is holding about work and busy schedules and the guilt following me around - there was that still small voice.  The Lover of my heart.

"See.....you are not missing everything."