“Look Mom, the sky is pink!” my three-year-old says in wonder.
But I am too busy obsessing–almost frantic–studying the tail lights in front of me. Tail lights. Clock. Long line.
I grope behind my seat. Where is her backpack?
Impatiently, I ask my first-grader, “Brooke, did you eat your breakfast?”
“I forgot to take any bites”, comes a small voice from the seat behind me. My heart sinks. That child could care less about eating and lunch is a long ways off.
I pull in and see the line that wraps around the school because I’ve cut it down to the wire. This is not usually my job, and for good reason. Last year when it was my responsibility to get her to school on time, we got a letter home from the principal for too many tardies. (I’m not exactly famous for being on time.) But my husband was out the door this morning for a meeting at an hour that I still call night, so I’m in the driver’s seat.
Again, a sweet small voice interrupts my frantic hurry. “Look Mom, the sky is pink!”
I look up and see one of the most magnificent skies I’ve ever seen. Streaky clouds stretch across the sky like radiant pink brushstrokes on the canvas of a Master artist.
“The heavens declare the glory of God; The skies proclaim the work of his hands.”
I round the corner and take a deep breath, as I see the east-facing view of the rising sun. It’s as if golden fire has lined the clouds. My soul can’t help but worship our Creator God, the artist of this spectacular sky. I feel a mix of sorrow and uncontainable praise as my mind repeats the scripture that says:
“I tell you…if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.”
All around me creation was crying out in worship, and I almost missed it with my head down watching the tail lights. Today, God used the sweet voice of my child to whisper to my soul: “I’m here. Good morning. It is going to be a beautiful day.”