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.
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