There’s a moment at the end of each day that I live for—when the sky opens up like an envelope and spills out the final pages of the evening in sheets of pink and purple vellum. At some point during this elaborate goodnight, Calm settles over my house with a relieved sigh and everything is blessedly still and quiet.
This is the moment when I see my life as a whole and I can right the pieces of perspective that got knocked over in the last 24 hours. It’s when I pray and listen and see and hear.
By the time twilight beds down and the stars take over, I can sleep renewed with the faith that all will unfold as it should.