Today, as I was driving back from Joy's during dusk, I was struck by how incredibly beautiful the skyline is at twilight. There was nothing particularly remarkable in the sky: a few streaks of orange and gold, a light layer of soft clouds, nothing very dramatic. Yet I found myself almost breathless from the scene.

I love this time of day, when daylight retreats and gives way to the encroaching night. For a brief moment, it's almost as if you don' t know where day ends and night begins: a threshold, a liminal space, a negotiation between light and darkness, a tentative moment of ambiguous overlap, and then suddenly the darkness gains the foothold. A temporary one, of course, for at dawn the same process occurs all over again, the struggle between night and day with the daylight triumphing.

I was feeling a little down today and just a bit anxious about some things, and yet witnessing this magical, albeit brief moment really refreshed my spirit. It reminded me of the possibility of glimpsing beauty in the everyday--a flicker, something ephemeral, a flash of God's handprint-- impressed upon my mind forever.