Hours spent lying on my back on the cool earth verdant grass blades tickling my ears and elbows gazing up at the periwinkle sky teeming with cumulous clouds, were the best hours of my childhood. These times were only improved by the company of someone who enjoyed cloud gazing as much as I did – my mom.
One never felt truly lazy when busy with discovering alligators, elephants, submarines, and airplanes in the sky. The blue was rarely interrupted back in those days, certainly not with whisps and trails and the sinewy fluffless things which call themselves clouds today. Ahhh, but when they came, there was nothing I loved more than lying back on the grass, sitting on a stoop, or plopping down on some outside staircase to watch the show. Even now, I stop everything to watch.
Perpetual, fluid reincarnation.
I wish change for me were as easy as the clouds. They seamlessly morph from one magnificent creation to the next – no struggle – just flow – each transformation more interesting than the next. Monkies, rhinos, top hats, and men’s faces with large noses replace race cars, trees, mountains, and kittens. It is the best lesson – cloud-gazing – to make something beautiful out of change, to not mourn the loss of the old, but embrace the glory of the new.
2 Corinthians 5: 17 Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old things have passed away. Behold, all things have become new.
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