When I make my way upstairs, I find my noisy group of friends gathered in front of a massive window watching the sun set against a cloudless Pacific in a wilderness of blue. The sun blisters the waters with a seething gold, then a flare of red, followed by a pink-fingered, rosy exit left.

Betty says, “Sunsets make me believe in God.”

Pat Conroy, South of Broad

I’m thinking today of the things that remind me of God.  The simple parts of life that feel like a love letter from on high, or a hug from Jesus.  Like turning the bend in the path around the Central Park Reservoir and looking to my left to see the midtown skyline propped against the dimming sunlight.  For all the parts of my story that I didn’t/don’t understand or like, for all the times I’ve cried out to him and wondered, Why is this happening?! or Where are you?!, there is a skyline and a sunset and a run that makes him real.

God, I love Him.  What a gift in itself.