We were driving in our common white car down the common gray street, down from the top of the first hill when Greg first spotted something spectacular. Greg, who is our family's resident king of understatement calmly announced, "When we get to the top of the next hill, you girls can see something nice out the windows to the left." Down the hill we cruised, and up, up, up the next we climbed, waiting to see the promised "nice something" out our windows.
When we reached the top, the golden light of a gorgeous sunset temporarily stopped time, and the little girls in the back gasped and clapped their little hands in delight. The intense red sky faded to bright flame-orange and then to violet as it rose above the old, worn, charcoal mountains that lay beyond the school in front of us. The sun had already climbed down out of sight to rest for the evening, but her glory lived on in the ribbons of gold clouds parading across the sky. The dazzling cloud-ripples floated up above us like a range of higher, ethereal summits.
The little valley full of wooden, post-war houses that fell away from our gray street to our left had seemed ordinary enough in broad daylight; but at dusk this evening, the houses that populated the little valley seemed to float amid the soft, purple haze left over from the sunset. Each home-island emanated soft, yellow light from within as families gathered for an evening meal.
Greg's eyes met mine for an instant, and together, we savored the cries of delight from the back seat, the beauty of the leftover sunshine behind the mountains, and the peace of the violet valley with the little dreamy, glowing houses. The happiness of sharing such splendor hung heavily around us, thick like the sweetness of perfume. This was a moment of deep beauty, a moment that you drink in and savor, like a glass of cold lemonade on a blazing hot day.
As the extraordinary majesty of that Australian sunset washed over us on the top of the hill, I turned toward my husband and my little, awestruck girls, still captivated in the back seat. The sunset had surprised me, not only with its intrinsic beauty, but by illuminating the glory hidden right there in my ordinary white car, glory I sometimes overlook. It is easy to see a spectacular sunset, but often I miss noticing the blessings of being a family. As I gazed at the Greg and the girls, overwhelming thankfulness consumed my heart, thankfulness not just for the perfect majesty of vivid sunsets, but gratitude for the grandeur of everyday family life. I am so thankful for dirty dishes and diapers and discipline, for the loud rapture of children marvelling, and most of all, for the common beauty of familiar, faithful love that shares the happiness of home and the splendor of sunsets.
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