I've always loved the sky. I've always been so amazed by the variety of colors, shades, degrees of light and different shapes that appear in that big untouchable ceiling that hangs over nature. I've always loved taking pictures of the sky, of sunsets, clouds, and even a dark, stormy moody sky is fascinating to me. I've seen sunsets that look like God took His paint brush and made one solid streak of pink, purple, orange and red, one on top of each other. Sometimes there would be dots of pink in the midst of a solid purple or orange, or there would be dark bunches of little clouds over a blue and yellow background. When the sun adds to these paintings of God, it is truly magnificent. It looks like a piercing yellow light shooting through streaks and splotches with shades of blue, purple, black, red, orange and yellow. And then some days, the sky would be only blue, so very blue, without a speck or even a thought of any other shade. I have always been as amazed by an intensely blue sky as I have by the most brilliant mixture of shades. It gives me the strange feeling that the sky has always been blue and always will be. And this solid blue looks different in summer than it does in fall or spring. Then there is the white, very, very white sky of winter, without a breath of any color blowing about, and with no cloud to be seen. It looks like a giant bleached sheet, hanging up above the earth. I like to imagine God up above the world each morning, planning out what he is going to make the sky look like that day, as if He is a painter and takes delight in making masterpieces on the canvas of the sky for all His people to look up at and be pleased and uplifted by. And then sometimes, on dark or rainy days, the sky looks like it's mourning, as if it is pained by all the sadness and sin of the world that it looks down on. It seems to be sobbing, its tears streaming down from the clouds. It seems to be so near and heavy and low some days, I feel like I could reach up and touch it. And then other times, when flashes of lighting streak above our heads, the sky seems to be charged with power as though it's been plugged into an electrical socket. I remember when I flew in an airplane, it was so amazing and unreal to go sailing through the clouds and see white on either side of me and to look down from the sky and see the tiny houses and farms and the fields of green, brown and other colors, which looked like patches on a huge quilt. And then, when the day ends, God's majesty is revealed again in the brilliant moon, sometimes a full glowing circle, at other times, only a sliver. and in stars the speckle the dark sky, twinkling like lights on a Christmas tree. And the thing about the sky the baffles and amazes me the most, is that every single day, the sky is different. God never paints the exact same picture. He always gives us a new original masterpiece to gaze up as a reminder to us that He is the One who keeps all of us in the world, truly alive.
(All the photos below are personal photos.)
