I know the date that this story happened because it was the same day as the national championship for Mens' NCAA basketball when Connecticut beat Kentucky, April 7, 2014.
I was living with Ben in the Rundberg apartment, and I must have been working on the Alaska album, because I went to Alaska that February and then finished it up around May. I was driving south on mopac headed to the Nasty's annex to watch the game and I was amazed by the bizarre sky.
As I remember, there was a storm coming in from the East and the sunset was starting in the West. The sky was dense with clouds, and perhaps some fog, and was split almost down the middle right over mopac, with dark navy to the East, where the storm made it already look like night had fallen there.
But in the west, the sunset was just beginning, so the sky and clouds in that direction was shot through with orange. The dividing line between the navy and the orange was almost directly over my head, and surprisingly clear. I've never seen anything like it.
Something about it filled me with awe and a sense of freedom and possibility. I had the spontaneous urge to go to Mount Bonnell to catch the end of the sunset. I couldn't really see it from the highway (just the orange glow) but I expected it would be glorious.
I think perhaps that feeling of potential and of freedom is what makes me remember this, and what makes me want to document it as part of my story. I exited the highway and headed to Mount Bonnell, now driving towards the orange glow. In my rear view mirror night had already fallen.
As I pulled up to the base of Mount Bonnell, it was starting to rain. I didn't have an umbrella but I didn't care. Whatever was pulling me towards the top and the light was stronger. There were only a few other cars parked there, and I think I only saw one other group of people.
I ran up the stairs. I had a sense of urgency. It wasn't raining very hard, but gusts of wind were shaking the trees. I felt alive. When I reached the top of the stairs, the sunset was blossoming. It was beautiful and it seemed unaware of the storm. I don't know why, but I thought they should be aware of each other.
How can you be storming in the East and sunsetting in the West? Shouldn't you coordinate these things? It seemed like the natural beauty for the evening had been double-booked, and both were performing at the same time.
It was raining on the top of the mountain, but it wasn't raining to the West. The wind continued to gust, and I delighted that I was there experiencing all this, and I delighted that I was alive.
I don't want to force some kind of deep symbolic meaning out of this, but I remember feeling in that moment that God delighted in me, that he was happy that I was there to see it, just as I was happy to be there. I remember I prayed for little while, though I don't remember what I prayed about, other than that I praised God for the beauty that he had made and brought me to.
Perhaps this moment is important because it provides a memory of joy and life to look back on when I am feeling sad or when the routines of life feel boring and weak with meaning. Perhaps it is an important part of my story because it represents other moments when I have been full of awe and life when I am out in nature, and that that is an important rhythm in my life.
Perhaps it is a good reminder that my most joyful moments are when I meet with God.