February 27, 2017
If you live in San Diego, you wouldn't understand. Someone told me a few years ago that San Diego is the sunniest city in the country. If you live there, I plead with you: don't take it for granted! We Western New Yorkers have to ration our sunny days like a man walking in the desert rations water. This morning's dentist appointment meant a half hour drive through the countryside in the brilliant morning sunshine. The bright blue of the sky formed a stunning backdrop to shades of green and brown in the fields and forests, while all was punctuated with the occasional red brick or grey, yellow, or white paint of the houses along the way.
Later in the early afternoon, a walk along the creek that surrounds our yard added the sounds and smells of the day as I meandered through lingering snow and matted leaves from last year. As the afternoon wore on however, the clouds started to settle in, cooling the air and obscuring the sun. The cooling effect wasn't limited however, to the air. The atmosphere cooled, too. The day was not as inviting as it had been mere hours before. Such is the effect of the sun upon earth, body, and soul. I cherish these infrequent sunny days. We don't have the luxury here of squandering them, which is perhaps one reason we don't watch too many movies. Wasting sunshine is an almost unforgivable sin, so we refuse to hide inside when there is even a hint of it to be found. I'm grateful today for the momentary encouragement I saw this morning, but also to know that while the beauty and warmth of the sun may be fleeting, that of the Savior is not.