Father, father

We headed home from the Sand Dunes Sunday evening, with the sun setting behind us, coating the mountains and fields in the most beautiful light. We saw small herds of pronghorn, green fields of summer, and gray mountains with the smallest touch of snow still lying in the valleys.


As we left Walsenburg and headed north, giant thunderheads were building in the sky. We chased them down the highway, watching the lightening flashing. First one, then another built in front of us. At each bend in the road, I expected to lose our view of the clouds, but they must have been further away than they appeared.


I was mesmerized. I couldn't stop watching them - those huge, puffy clouds filled with such harsh flashes of light. And it went on and on as the sky darkened and the lightening became more and more pronounced.


The miles flowed beneath us and just after sunset, we approached the city of Pueblo. In the distance, like neon popcorn, fireworks began to rise over the city in small patches, first one, then another. As one cluster died out, another would begin, and as we drove through the city they seemed to go on an on. To my left the city's fireworks; to my right, nature's fireworks.


Southern rock was playing, dark had fallen, and the fireworks filled my eyes. My heart broke open. Dad loved the 4th of July and family outings to fireworks, and this dual display was just what my worn out spirit needed to get those tears flowing.

On and on the light shows continued. Mile after mile, song after song. My concept of God the Father was so informed by my dad - his love, tenderness, passion for his family, his gentle touch. And now my dad is in heaven with my Father God. It was as if both God and my dad were sending me a message of peace and comfort.

Life will go on. Camp, hike, laugh, love. Life will go on. And everything will be all right.

And the tears ran down my face, the music played, the lightening flashed. Tim held my hand and I cried.

all pictures taken from google.com