Clouds

 

 

Clouds

 

I stood on my lawn and gazed skyward at the clouds. Each unique visible vapor in deepening tones marched silently past as if on a secret mission. Looking up from the earth we can only see the underside of clouds. In hues of blue-gray, they can feather across the expanse or gather in tremendously large shapes of various forms.

As a child, I once read a book about the power of one’s mind. One of the suggested exercises was to lay outside on one’s back, stare at the clouds and to try to mentally dissolve the clouds. I spent a good portion of that day staring upward without success; although one cloud did seem to split in the center as it floated past. Reluctantly, I decided that I had no super powers. I closed the book beside me and went indoors to console myself with cookies.

From a spatial vantage point we can looking down upon clouds. The wavy puffs of white, much like large cotton haystacks, endlessly fill the horizon. It’s as if earth itself has undergone a metamorphosis and the colorful world we know has been cleansed and awaits a painter’s touch.

But when traveling through a cloud there’s no opportunity to see anything. The window to the world is completely obscured in a bland oneness. It is at times like this that I long for a chance to look ahead, to look back, or to glimpse anything with variety.

On my last flight, the pilot warned of the turbulent weather we’d encounter. When the jet flew through the rain cloud the windows were pelted by the storm, the wind pushed and jerked our craft. The nose of the plane was aimed up, up into the rage surrounding us. Thoughts of the brevity of life passed through my head. I mentally sang a song of reassurance and I prayed. There was no panic, but the evening flight was eerily silent. I watched the lights on the wing disappear from view as the seat that held me shook. Long, long moments later the plane pierced the veil and a pocket of sky appeared, comforting my challenged spirit.

I was grateful that clouds have a top and a bottom. They are not endless even in the midst of a storm. Off in the distance I could see the red tint of the sun on the horizon faithfully setting between the clouds. Although earth-bound beings would not see it, my camera caught the promise of the day’s end.

My challenging flight reaped a wonderous insight. As I journey though this day’s challenges I am learning, like the pilot, to aim upward no matter my view. I am reassured that storms do   eventually end, and like the sunset hidden above my view, there is a promise of tomorrow. I move forward in hope, trusting in the lesson of the clouds.

Be encouraged.                                                                                                                                                           Blessings my friends.

Breaking through the storm clouds.                                        The hidden sunset above the storm.

 

 

 

 

 

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