Driving home from Dalmeny on Monday night, I was struck by the beauty of the sunset in my rear-view mirror. It wasn’t that this sunset was particularly stunning: it was pretty average as far as sunsets go. What struck me was that fact that it was a sunset and I could actually see it. It dawned on me that since I moved to Saskatoon nearly three years ago, I could probably count the number of sunsets I have seen on one hand. I live in an old neighborhood that is filled with trees that shade the streets. While this is beautiful, and trees are an incredible part of nature, they are not what fill me with awe. What fills me with awe is the sky. When I am out in the open I feel like I can breathe more fully, more deeply, more contentedly. I feel like myself when I am out on the prairie. As an insignificant spec on the glorious landscape of wide open space, I am comfortable with myself because I feel so close to the One who created it all. When I can see the sky, I see a love letter written to me from God. It is where I meet with Him most intimately and without my words to complicate matters, the silence calms my soul. It is where I find peace.
I have felt so unlike myself for the past few years, and I think it (part of it anyway) comes down to not having that time to just be in nature with God and feel His closeness to me in the air that I breathe. I can’t wait to get out of the city.
It also got me wondering what other things connect me with God on an intimate level and I realized I rarely do these things. Am I afraid of a close encounter? What are these things? Well prayer is an obvious one, which I have avoided a lot for a while now. I also feel so close to God when I am playing my djembe. When I listen to Coldplay. When I go for a drive at night. When I lie on the hood of my car across the railroad tracks of the road I used to live on and look at the stars. When I am talking with good friends. These are all things I don’t do very often. What would happen if I did them more? Would they become less sacred to me, or would I cherish them all the more?