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One moment I am scouring my fridge for leftovers and bustling around my kitchen and the next I am caught off guard by vivid strokes of pink and orange, purple and blue, yellow and gold suddenly pouring through my kitchen window.

I stop, enraptured, craning my neck to see over the buildings and tree tops. Barely visible at first, the colors slowly build and glow until the sky is ablaze with light. God the painter is at work again.

I wonder if she, like me, gets done with a long day’s work and needs to let loose a burst of creativity.

I picture her like a seasoned artist, apron covered in patches of paint, some fresh some old, brows furrowed with focus, eyes glistening with delight, as she sends another streak of fiery color across the sky.

Maybe this is God showing emotion through creation. Maybe God’s tears aren’t really the rain; maybe they are bursts of burning color that cause us to stop dead in our tracks, reflect a moment, appreciate, even take a picture.

Or maybe if God’s tears are the rain, then vibrant sunsets are her laughter.

Either way she reminds me that in something as ordinary as the passing of another day, there are still miraculous sights to behold.

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