Look up

The day my mother died, my son (who has epilepsy and who has quite convincingly told us he talks to God) called for me to come outside (to the back deck) to see something. When I got outside, he pointed up and said, "The sky is full of angels for Grandma."

I looked up and the sky was filled with hundreds of small circular clouds. I said, "You mean the circles...the clouds that are circles?" He laughed and said, "Those are their chairs."

It doesn't matter if he was right or wrong, seeing something real or mired in grief. The fact that he looked up and saw something in the handiwork in the sky touched me. Since then, every time I go outside, I look up. The sky is full of color and light. I haven't seen angels sitting on the circular clouds but I have seen artistry.

I like the big fluffy clouds. (Who doesn't?) But I'm also beginning to appreciate the wisps of white that dance through the blue or gray. But the thing that strikes me the most about the sky is that it's always different. It's moody. It's expressive.

Just looking at the sky will improve my mood. At first I thought it was because of the poetry, the symmetry of the dance going on over our heads. Then I realized it might just be because I'm looking up, maybe for the first time that day.

And I wonder if that isn't what the show in the sky is supposed to do -- make us look up every once in awhile instead of down all the time.

#positivity #lookup #endtheyearonapositivenote