When God Paints the Sky

is for bed. I love my bed. It’s soft and comfortable and warm. I hate to admit that I am getting to that age where I don’t sleep well if I am not in my own bed. Or maybe that’s just me, no matter my age. I usually sleep cold, and even most hotel beds are not warm enough for me. I know that in many places in the world a bed like mine is a luxury. When John and I went to Bosnia in 1997, everywhere we went, every hotel, had tiny little twin beds. I swear that entire country was out to keep us apart. And for John, who is over six feet tall, they weren’t quite long enough.

B is also for books. I love books. I love to read them and write them and hold them and smell them and arrange them on shelves. I especially love old books, the ones that make that creaking noise when you open them and where the pages aren’t cut perfectly evenly. One of my favorites is a book from 1934 about the archaeological digs in Israel of a site named Tell Beit Mirsim. (Yeah, I know. Hush.) Lately I read more nonfiction books, for research, than fiction. My favorite genre, of course, is Biblical fiction. I have some of my fellow Bib-fic authors linked on the side of this page. I love how when done correctly, fiction can make history come alive, make a story more memorable and meaningful.

But my favorite B is the beach. I love the beach—San Diego’s beach to be specific. I love the sunsets there. I miss them. The colors are so vibrant, and so soothing at the same time. Every time I see—or better, experience, a west coast beach sunset, I feel God’s presence all the way through my soul. It’s like He’s there, painting the sky just for me, with reds and oranges and purples. How anyone could deny there is a God right then, I will never know.

What are you thank for today?