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I grew up on the Texas plains where clouds came in two varieties: stringy wisps or raging thunderstorms. Then I moved to wetter climes. Every day was a marvelous, changing kaleidoscope.
When my fifth-grade teacher introduced us to watercolor, I chose clouds for my first project. As I grew, I learned how Japanese haiku poets and French impressionists equally sang their praises.
At the time, I wasn’t a believer. Yet I marveled at the ever-changing canvas, which each beholder experiences differently. After coming to know the cloud-maker as my Savior, I never lost my wonder.
Still today, I can’t help but steal a glance upward. The God who waters the earth with lighter-than-air, evanescent airships also waters our souls (Proverbs 3:19–21).
This article was taken from Answers magazine, November–December, 2018, 82.