This evening as we were driving across town, my husband and I both called attention to each other regarding the brilliant pinks etched with gold lace as the sun painted on the canvas of the horizon. For just a few moments my emotions were raw as I recalled the evening of September 25, 1995 – the day we buried my mother. That evening we had taken my dad back over to the graveside before making the long journey home. As we drove away, the sunset was extraordinarily brilliant. From the back seat we heard Dad begin to sing,
“Beyond the sunset, oh blissful morning
When with our Savior heaven is begun
Earth’s toil is ending oh glorious dawning
Beyond the sunset when day is done”
Tonight, once again I watch God’s majestic artistry of various shades of pinks, crimson, and gold etchings around the royal purple clouds, and I ponder about the place where Mom now lives. She is there, beyond the sunset. There, beyond the ever darkening shadows of nightfall that creeps steadfastly across the horizon of the living. There, taking in His presence. Moments ago I tried to sing, “if we could see beyond the clouds as God sees…” – but my voice was constricted – emotion choked my words. As I have watched the ever-changing sky, victory and triumphant joy have flooded my heart. God brought to mind a different melody, and with freedom and victory I sing in my heart, “O the blessed contemplation, when with trouble here I sigh; I’ve a home beyond the river, That I’ll enter by and by.