It was an absolutely beautiful day. The kind that makes you wish the day would never end because who knows if the sky will ever be as blue or as clear or have just the right amount of clouds.
As we drove to Camarillo, I wanted to take deep breaths as though I could inhale it all.
That wasn't even the best part of the day. The sunset was stunning. I was thinking as I was driving home how I feel my photography grew last year. I had always read about "seeing the light" and it was a missing piece of the puzzle. For some reason, I was sure that it was listening for God's voice. That it would elude me. That everyone would have a clue except for me.
Over this last year, I feel like I finally am seeing the light. There was a click and my eyes were opened. And now I wonder how it was that I missed it for so long. But now that I see the light, I can't get enough of it. I wonder if others can see it.
As we drove home, I wanted to stop a thousand times, to stare, to try to capture it it on camera, to soak it all in.
Frustration set in as I watched the sun setting over the city feeling like I should drive straight to the buildings where the rays were bouncing all over the place, but I was in a hurry to get home, take down the Christmas tree, make the snacks for tomorrow's basketball game, finish the wash, try to get a little work in. It's always one thing or another.
And then I began thinking about the Light of the world and now that I am beginning to see light in a whole new way, how much more it means that Jesus was the light of the world. Not like a light bulb, but like the sunlight reflecting off the water, the golden of the sunrise or sunset, bringing beauty, warmth, bouncing off one thing, on to another.