Driving East to Look West

February 8, 2006

The sunset was epic tonight.

So I got in my car and drove East as fast as I could. Halfway to Gloucester I remembered that I was in fact heading the wrong direction to soak in the actual setting of the sun, with the exception of the subdued glow I could catch through the rearview mirror and my tinted windows. It just felt right, and then I knew something inside me wanted to see the sunset without the interference of wires and signage and other optical pollution. My spot of choice was Magnolia and the strip of pothole-riddled road that runs between the mansions and the Atlantic.

The view of the West from East was worth the moment of directional paradox.

And I don't know what sort of deeper meaning that holds for my life, exactly, except that sunset and dusk are my very favorite times of day, when my soul comes most alive and I can breathe in the glory of God's creation better than any other moment...it was just beautiful, and I wonder if I don't need to become more comfortable with loving the simplicity of enjoying God's blessings without theologizing it or having some moment of uncharacteristically deep throught to analyze because of it.

So I think I found a little something of peace to quiet the desperation of my heart by driving East to look West...

And so the faithful one who is my God shows himself just enough to remind me of what moments of abundant life look like, when you pause for a fraction of a second and think that there's nothing else in the whole world that you'd rather be doing than helping this beautiful child of God, this high school girl, find Ephesians.