The greatest gifts come from the Master Artist.
We have always been a family who will drop everything to rush outside and enjoy a beautiful sunset. And because we lived in the scenic American Southwest, this happened frequently until the children grew up and scattered from coast to coast.
Recently my daughter in Arizona installed a GoPro camera facing west. It records and condenses video, so in a few minutes you see the sun dropping to the horizon, clouds shifting and brightening to a mélange of molten gold, then it all dissolving and fading to stars gleaming in a dark sky. Or you watch towering storm clouds form in the distance, lit with lightning flashes as curtains of rain sweep toward you, intensifying as they near. Each sunset is different. They are a free gift from God, and Kate graciously shares them with us—a way to unite our far-flung family, now all busy with their own families and careers.
I am a true fan of sunsets and beautiful skies. My favorite sunset, however, happened a number of years ago.
It had been a difficult year. There were serious family and financial troubles, and I was struck by a painful disabling illness that usually kept me bedridden. It was my birthday, and no one had mentioned it. Toward suppertime, feeling sad and a bit neglected, I dragged myself off the bed and went downstairs, wondering what simple meal I could prepare to feed my family.
Suddenly someone wrapped their arms around me from behind, and with much laughter I was held and blindfolded by several pairs of hands.
I knew I would never receive a more perfect birthday gift.
“Okay, Mom, birthday time! We’re going for a ride!”
I was hustled out the door and into the waiting car (where I could smell fried chicken) and driven around with an exaggerated running commentary of near disaster, such as “Watch out for that big car!” A slam on the brakes—“Man, it nearly hit us—that was close!” A squeal of tires, quick cornering, and a fast sideways weave—“You nearly hit that little kid!” And so on. I, of course, could see nothing, but lurched and gasped at the appropriate times.
When we eventually arrived—somewhere—my children escorted me, still blindfolded, out of the car. They guided me up what I could feel was a rocky incline, carefully positioned me, and with a flourish and a “Ta-da!” removed my blindfold. There spread before me was the city of Tucson, with the sun just dropping beyond the western mountains.
We stood at the base of Chimney Rock, a tall rock formation guarding the entrance to Sabino Canyon at the foot of Mt. Lemmon. To the west the sun scintillated in a blaze of trailing clouds above jagged deep purple mountains. The mountainside beside us glowed golden. Behind us a series of foothills deepened from rose to magenta. Beyond them storm clouds gathered in a blue-black sky. And arching from golden Chimney Rock to a distant rosy peak stretched a radiant rainbow. It was so incredibly beautiful I could only gasp and stare.
Just then, a fine mist of rain began to fall. Each raindrop caught the sun and everything around us brightened with a shimmering veil of liquid gold. We stood speechless, surrounded by beauty beyond words.
I thought of the Master Artist—the One who lovingly creates so much beauty—and of how fortunate we were to experience this ephemeral moment. I felt profoundly blessed and overwhelmed with gratitude. I knew I would never receive a more perfect birthday gift.
When I could speak I turned to my children. I asked, laughing around the lump in my throat, “How did you do this?”
My daughter slipped her arm through mine and squeezed. “For your birthday, Mom.”
My son grinned, put his arm around my shoulder, and said, “Connections, Mom. We’ve got connections.”
Linda Calhoun is grateful for blessings, challenges, and a beautiful world.
