The Sky Is Burning!

Have you ever seen a sky so amazing that it almost looks like the apocolypse is coming? You can't see the sun anywhere, but its light touches the clouds in such a way that it almost looks like the sky is on fire, or at least has burning embers somewhere just below the horizon, and it's enough to warm up the clouds. I don't see a sky like this very often, but I saw it last night. And it was speechlessly, breathlessly, and indescribably beautiful. I was very lucky to have my camera on hand.

These are only some of the 40 pictures that I took with my digital camera. (Insert footnote here: If my 17 year old self could meet my 27 year old self, she might be very disappointed. For the longest time, I passionately advocated for film photography instead of digital. However, I have since, as my former high school photography teacher put it when I showed adamant resistance, "grasped the future." End footnote.) I had already snapped some photos from my balcony, but as I was walking down my street on the way to choir practice a few minutes later, I couldn't stop taking these shots. I kept wanting to get more detail of the clouds, sharper silhouettes, and to capture the fire that seemed to be taking over the sky. It felt (and looked) as though God was making Her presence known and I didn't want to miss a second of it. I once wrote a poem (which I have since deleted) called "I Cannot Remember Clouds" which attempted to describe or explain why it was difficult for me to remember these vaporous forms that often create so much beauty in tandem with the sun. It's true...I cannot remember clouds, nor sunsets. I certainly didn't want to forget this one.

But this sunset was not the only amazing thing that I encountered last night. As I stood on one of the street corners, trying to capture this ethereal moment in time, a car rolled to a stop even though there was no stop sign. The woman inside the car looked at me, smiled and pointed to the skyline, almost as if to say, "Can you believe we're seeing this?!" She took out her iphone and snapped a picture or two and drove away. Not too long after, after I moved about a block in five minutes, another car came down the hill near to where I was standing. He, too, had the same reaction as the woman: looking at me, pointing, and smiling. "I know, right?" I said. He nodded, snapped his picture and went on.

These encounters were literally momentary. Much like sunsets. Much like clouds. But unlike the former two, I'll remember them. People remember those strangers that they shared traumatic moments with, but the same can be said for moments of joy and awe. The fact that I was able to share this sunset with a couple of strangers made it that much more memorable. I'm grateful that I had my camera with me, but I'm even more grateful that I wasn't alone to share the view.