The fiery orange globe climbs down the sky and then sits momentarily on the earth's shoulder before it drops inside a pocket between the horizon and the sky, leaving the secret with every wondering child -- where did it go? Those sunsets are spectacular. The colors are shimmering. They stay suspended only to disappear into predictable change: gray shadows and slow shade.

     As we enjoyed red, orange, and yellow sunsets on the wide west horizon at the ranch, my daddy, "R.T.", would often say out of the blue, "Never let the sun set upon your anger." By his example we were taught to work through anger and resentment and, with the grace of God, let the umbrage go. It's interesting that 'umbrage' comes from the Latin word meaning to cast a long shadow.

     Just as the shadows are longest at sunset, unresolved anger casts long shadows on our soul. Before putting away our tools for the day, there might be one more task that needs to be completed: reconciliation. May we turn our anger, resentment, and umbrage into tender mercy and forgiveness so that, with joy, we do receive the evening with some semblance of calm, mindful presence, and gratefulness.                                       --by Jan

I stepped outside, at dawn, into the muggy heat of a Texas summer. The sky was overcast, but like so many days in this drought-stricken year, the clouds would prove to be thin, and quickly burn off in another day of scorching heat.

Most days, I would simply pick up the newspaper and go back inside the air conditioning. This day, a Saturday, I sat down on the patio, cup of tea in hand, to watch the world awaken.  Yes, the air was humid and already hot, well before 7 a.m.  But as I sat, a breeze came up, rustling the leaves of the oaks, cooling my skin. 

A single bright spot appeared on the gray blanket of clouds. I watched it grow, wondering if it were a stray ray from the rising sun, slanting upward, lighting only that single spot. Then the clouds drifted a bit further, the bright spot grew, both larger and brighter, and the silver disk of the near-full moon emerged to grace the morning.

A morning like any other: except that I took the time to simply be, to watch and wonder as God's world awoke.  Had I not paused to sit in stillness, this day born in beauty would simply be another scorching day endured within the air-conditioning, too much time spent staring at a computer screen. I might never have noticed the breeze; the great dark vultures floating on air would have been seen (if noticed at all) as signs of scavenging death, rather than soaring symbols of awakening life.

This day is no different from the one before or the one before that. But I am different, because I took the time to sit in stillness, to watch and ponder as the earth turned beneath my feet; because I took the time to welcome the gift of this new day.