Someone once told me that a sunset was Heavenly Father’s way of saying goodnight. I’ve always loved that thought, and through the years I’ve been a known serial sunset watcher. I will drop everything to witness for myself, the effulgence of a setting sun.
When conditions are right, as the sun slips through the atmosphere, the colors become radiant; my darling granddaughter tells me it’s prettier when there are clouds because they give the light something to bounce onto; somehow, she understands the concept of opposition.
As the sun slips toward the horizon, the clouds, if we’re lucky enough to have just a few, give us the sense that molten gold is being poured by an invisible challis. As that gold spreads across the vista, it transforms the sky in to a light show to rival any in existence.
The blues become more vibrant, giving us a turquoise so deep, and so seemingly tangible, you think, maybe, you could dive in and swim.
Then, the purples and violets, peaches and hints of gray come to the scene. The sky is awash in glory and splendor; if you listen closely, you can almost hear the Heavenly Hosts singing praises, and you can feel that God is in the Heavens and all is right with the world.
Look eastward; the colors, softer and less pushy invite you to watch as twilight sweeps over you, and envelopes you in darkness and peace.
I know there are scientific explanations for all of this; fancy words and detailed charts to tell me about air flow, humidity and dust particles, but it matters little; God is telling me goodnight, and reminding me that He loves me.