There was an evening this summer when the clouds were particularly majestic in the sunset sky–voluminous with indigo and gold. I stood at my west-facing bedroom window looking northwest, just beyond the neighbors’ cluster of maple and willow.
They were clouds that seemed worthy enough to carry our Lord from the heavens down here to our blue marble. So I waited and watched to see if He would happen to come while I was looking. Could I catch Him in my sight as just a tiny speck in the distance and watch Him descend like Mary Poppins from on high? I kept watching and waiting and enjoying the clouds, knowing the light would soon change it all.
And then there was a speck. It came closer and was joined by a few more–dark and winged and then closer still. The green herons were back from a day of fishing and frogging. Putting on the brakes, extending their legs, they came in for a landing at their willow tree home.