My breath was taken away this morning as I looked out the kitchen window. The sun glinted off a fresh white blanket of snow in a way that made you forget everything else in the world.
One glance is all it took to enter a tunnel – all senses attuned to the changing lights and clouds while the ground beneath me spun rapidly eastward, taking me deeper and deeper into the swirly midst and brilliant colors.
Then…well…my stomach growled, and it was back to reality.
The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech;
night after night they reveal knowledge.
They have no speech, they use no words;
no sound is heard from them.
Yet their voice goes out into all the earth,
their words to the ends of the world.
In the heavens God has pitched a tent for the sun.
It is like a bridegroom coming out of his chamber,
like a champion rejoicing to run his course.
It rises at one end of the heavens
and makes its circuit to the other;
nothing is deprived of its warmth.