Last night it was a brown moon and this morning, a red sun.
A brown moon. Not a wide, welcoming harvest moon of yellow and gold. But a pinched, dirty and smallish moon that seemed too far away.
A red sun this morning. Not a sun that casts pink glows on the hills at sunrise or at setting, but a red, apocalyptic sun that hurts the eyes.
This heavy smoke cloud that rests over the city filters all of our light. Strange oranges and dingy greys are the palette today and the sky rains ash. It gets in every thing (including my lungs) and then swirls along the pavement in mini dust storms at ankle level. It really is an odd landscape. Worse than the worst smog, the smoke makes any outdoor exertion impossible.
It all saddens me, then makes me wonder at human frailty. We are so fragile and delicate and dependent on clean air and cool weather. Heat and smoke weakens the body and depresses the spirit. Our lives are brittle, short and therefore, precious. We are so easily broken.
But, the smoke will pass. The cloud will be swept ocean ward, and will dissipate. We will all breathe deeply again and I can resume my running outside. The fires will be put out for the last time this season (THIS season), most people will return home and some will rebuild. Cool and damp autumn air will replace this hot dryness and we’ll shiver when we let the door open (rather than cough). Those who lost everything will find it in their soul to move forward. It will be November soon.
And there is always hope.
I cannot even imagine. I am so grateful that you and your family are okay. You are so right—life is just a vapor. I pray that the Lord will use you and your family to minister to the people of Southern California who may have lost their homes but who have not lost their lives. May He provide an opportunity to let His light shine through you in your community as He does with your blog!
You portray this so well and leave us with hope. In spite of the sadness of the situation, this is a beautiful post.
You have wonderful words, Sarah.
Hey Sarah!
I’ve been catching up on your blog. I missed a lot while I was away.
So thankful that your family is safe.
My favorites as I was reading were “The Biggest Pumpkin You Can Carry”and “Reminder”.
Thanks for always sharing your heart so freely.
The fragility of human life is a scary thing for me to think about. Thank goodness I have hope in the eternal.
I am thankful that you are safe and the fires have tapered.
You don’t know me — but I read your writings often. Thanks for this one – you captured it perfectly, I think.
There is always hope – I think that about says it all. Great post Sarah!