Living small

Have you noticed the sky lately? Not sure how you could miss it or how I could have taken it for granted all of these years. Now, it commands my attention.

Inflated, cotton-candy spun clouds effortlessly wading across a pure cerulean sky calm me, ground me and remind me that there is something bigger. Much. That my struggles, really, are minuscule in the grand scheme of the universe.

Orange ice-cream-coned top confections embrace me with color. Color is my muse. It inspires, brings joy and serves as life's varnish.

Sunlit, lemony-green foliage sparkles against a crystal, cobalt sky as I sit on my porch toward the end of summer. I am refreshed, pausing for reflection on a perfect day. A day God has bestowed as a gift.

Striking shadows under energetic, elongated clouds mark the ground, sweeping the rows of corn right along. The visit reminds me of the beauty of the Midwest I take for granted, sometimes feeling stuck here ... when all I must do it look up for renewal.

Fierce, sharp warrior clouds bathed in pink and blue race me along the highway, taunting, teasing, telling me that I am not in charge, that the will shift or disappear at any minute. That I ought to notice. Now. Be present or miss the opportunity.

A sky pregnant with wisps accompanies me, sharing spots of blue and sun filtering through. I feel more whole with their appearance as we drift home together.

Trees stand as dark creatures against an ominous, early fall firmament signaling the change of seasons from "come out into the sun to play" to "time for a long, nap."

Organic, billowy jets charge north across the horizon gathering as if for attack. I observe from the distance their power, glory and precision. Nature is not to be messed with.

Low afternoon vapors obstruct the sun and blue, riding along like the Amish bicyclist ahead. He goes one direction, they cross his path. Movement, dance and display disarm me, charm me.

Slogging out of the grocery at dusk one late-summer's eve, I drop everything as does everyone else. Flies would have a field day invading our open mouths. Pedestrians and drivers alike are stopped in their tracks to witness the miracle of floating pink, purple and blue usurp the landscape. Invade our consciousness. Though moving very much like Harry Potter's dementors, these are hauntingly beautiful as God reaches out to say hello. See me. Know me.

My favorite day of the year the past three has been blessed with stunningly dry air and sunny, blue-sky days. A real answer to prayer. This September's Oakwood Art Day is no exception. My heart smiles at the brightness of the weather, only surpassed by the spirit of the children at play.

Saturated clouds slowly unload at first glimpse of the Appalachian foothills as I head east to a reunion of old friends. They stoke my anticipation and gratitude, mirroring that I, too, am full.

The sky tapped me this summer on a trip to Iowa. The lush corn stalks, extended family and childhood memories welcomed me home. I was sucked into the stunning, familiar landscape and echo of the past calling.

Mother Nature has my attention. I can't help BUT look up, check in and see that God exists and all, really, is right with my soul.

• Have you noticed the sky lately?
• What, exactly, have you noticed?
• How has the experience (re)connected you to Mother Nature?
• To Spirit?
• How has your spirit been lifted?


no wonder
my neck hurts

I am nearly
always looking
down

at my phone
at the ground
at the computer screen

anywhere
anywhere

but up

until She
grabbed
me

jerked her arm
down and
said pay attention

NOW

she's stunned
me with her
beauty

and reminded
me

that I don't
have to live
so small

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