A morning in March

God is the Awesome Creator, and for me, the greatest creation is the sky. It is our blanketing dome in which God warms purple-gray clouds into deep-but-gentle pink, hot yellow sun streaks into bruised-pumpkin orange, and angry-blacks into irresponsibly-light, cotton puffs.

I know who I am when I sit and watch my cats explore the everyday-new world, as the pre-morning sky wakes into this day.

This is how I experience my awesome God.

And, I had recently forgotten this.

As the youngest child in a rowdy and dangerous Irish-German Catholic family, I often hid under the dining room table, willing myself invisible.  We moved frequently and I had a hard time adjusting to the 5 different houses we lived in within a 4-year period. My father worked for the government, yes, but not the military.

When we’d get to the new house, I’d have lost another precious and comforting belonging. My father would flatten the now-empty Mayflower moving boxes and put them outside – sometimes on an enclosed porch or the latest cement patio.  And, I’d sneak out of my new (odd) bedroom, in the wee hours of Saturday mornings, with my favorite read under my arm, dressed in my beloved Halloween-now-defunct angel costume – soon-to-be just a white, cotton nightgown with billowing sleeves – and lay on the flat boxes, occasionally reading or looking up at the morning or watching the most-recent kittens play –  ducking, hiding, jumping out to surprise each other as they practiced attacking techniques.

The dear solitude I loved as a kid.

This March morning reminded me, thankfully, and infused my core with a renewing sense of awe and knowledge that I am never really alone.

My life is good, abundant, and filled by the always-beautiful sky.