Falling Glory and Unexpected Grace

There are fabulous northern lights tonight, unearthly pink and green darts falling down from heaven and dancing back up. I make Carla come outside with me to watch and we discover that the neighbours are also standing in the street, looking up in awe. I talk to them for the very first time, despite the fact that I've lived here for nearly two years. And I praise my God for being so good.

Every time I see northern lights I remember being about four years old and sitting in the back of my parents' car as we drove home from my grandparents' place. As I was falling asleep I looked out of the window and saw a new splendour pouring down from the sky. Good memories seem to lead into one another; somehow, that recollection of unexpected beauty puts me in mind of a late-night ice cream run with Jasmine and Challis in the middle of the Ottawa winter. We were walking home from the Mac when we heard a jazz tune pouring out of the third-story window in an old white house. All we could see of the mysterious musicians was the tip of an upright base sticking out of the window, but we stopped for the impromptu concert, sitting on a snow-covered ledge. The music floated down along with the giant white mid-winter snowflakes through the lamplit night.