A divine sunset

Inspired by a funeral I attended Saturday morning, which celebrated the life of a 95-year old navy man, I treated myself to a lingering sunset Saturday night.

“Imagine how a sunset would look from a ship in the middle of the ocean,” Father Bill Hoffman said during his homily, as he took us through a poetic description of sunrises and sunsets as they related to birth and death.

It ocurred to me, then, that I had not enjoyed a summer sunset in a while, and I’d better get hopping because seasons seem to pass more quickly than the days that move them along.

I knew the perfect spot, and I parked there promptly at 7:30 p.m. Few things in life are as beautiful and free as watching a sunset roll out over the water. They remind you of your place in this old world, and of the artist who curates that nightly show.

We lucky, bumbling, fallible, well-intentioned humans just have to find a few spare moments to sit back, relax and appreciate the splendor.

I gave myself plenty of time for Saturday’s show and the rare opportunity to enjoy it without interruption. (My perfect spot happened to be the parking lot of a country club that was hosting an elegant outdoor event, but that did not bother me at all. I have no shame in my sunrise, sunset and rainbow seeking.)

It wasn’t a particularly spectacular sunset — no popcorn clouds or shimmering brilliance, though it thrilled me just the same.

Life is hard because it’s so inescapably finite and fraught with challenges we can’t control. But, every now and then, we get to look up and also acknowledge its incredible capacity for beauty and peace.

I’m really grateful I took the time to do that Saturday night.

I parked on the edge of the lot and sat back to enjoy the show.
I have no shame in my sunset watching, but I also try to be considerate. I stayed far away from the formal party that was occuring on the other side of the parking lot. The live music was a bonus treat.
Lake Winnebago is so large and deep it makes a perfect mirror for the sun.
The sun looks biggest as it approaches the horizon, which is another cool metaphor Fr. Bill pointed out.
I wondered about the people on that fishing boat too and whether they were enjoying the celestial show.
It’s always cool to see the last gasp of color in the evening, when the citrus colors of the sunset turn to berry shades.
I hightailed it home, then, to catch the last three quarters of the Bucks game, which turned out to be the best part of the game anyway. #BucksInSix

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