The sun was shining when I drove into church today. At first I thought I was running very late, and then I remembered: “Oh yeah, Day Light Savings Time. Then I realized I was feeling sad, which kind of surprised me. I’m one of those people who is much happier and much more active when the sun is shining. So why sad with the sun shining in my face?

It all started about the middle of the summer. It was Sunday morning and as usual I left the house in darkness. I was barely aware as the sky slowly became lighter. Then as I crested the hill in Calabasas I saw wide beams of light reaching from the tops of the mountains up into the sky. It was one of those moments that takes your breath away. As I continued through the San Fernando Valley, I became entranced as the sky changed from moment to moment. I was reminded of watching Marla create the drawing that symbolized the women’s retreat. I was watching God paint the morning sky.

The rays became brighter as more yellow was added to the palette. Slowly a layer of light blue was added. Then I watched in awe as a light, almost white, highlight was slowly painted across the uppermost rim of the mountains. More highlights, even brighter and then, using bold strokes, slowly a large yellow-orange ball emerged in the middle of the painting. It felt as if God was saying, “Here is your day, make of it what you will.”

Jim was the only one around when I got to church that morning, so I shared with him the excitement I felt at what I saw. Sunday mornings became the time I got to watch God create a new day. Never the same. I remember watching one morning as the artist seemed to wrestle with whether clouds would dominate, or the golden sun would be central. The arching strokes of yellow, gold and orange would appear only to be covered again by wispy strokes of black and grey. Then suddenly God began painting bright silvery white highlights on the upper edges of the clouds. More highlights were added to the sky above the clouds, and it became apparent that the artist’s mind was made up. Slowly the sun appeared, stroke by stroke.

On another occasion, I had barely left the house when the painting came into view. The artist was trying out new colors today. Feverishly, bright splashes of red, vermillion, purple and orange were added to the morning sky. And then slowly, as if frightened by the boldness of this new palette, the artist toned down the scene. The colors were slowly blended to a light pink overlaying a soft blue with some wisps of grey thrown in for good measure.

Sharing with Jim became part of my Sunday morning routine. He drives in from a different direction, so sometimes his sky was different from mine. This Sunday we shared our sadness at not being able to watch the sun rise. The artist had painted, but we had missed the creative process and could only view the finished product. So I am a little sad, but then I remember that this time of year, I will get to watch the artist paint the close of the day.