1997
Simple As a Sunset
February 1997


“Simple As a Sunset,” New Era, Feb. 1997, 49

Simple As a Sunset

Davy’s pretty smart for a seven-year-old. Here’s what he taught me about sunsets.

It was dusk as my mother and I drove down the road on our way to visit my grandparents. I stared out the window, lost in my own thoughts as the conversation hit a lull.

“Pretty sunset,” my mother commented, interrupting my thoughts.

“Mmmm,” I mumbled in agreement, seeing the glorious sunset for the first time. The silence resumed until my mother broke it again.

“Do you know what Davy says?” she asked me as I turned toward her. It was not unusual for my mother to talk of Eloise’s children. Eloise, my mother’s best friend, had died two years previous after battling cancer. She left behind four children. The youngest was seven-year-old Davy.

Suddenly interested, I shook my head in answer to my mother’s question.

“He says sunsets make him think about his mother,” she said, choking back the tears. “He says it’s just like she’s smiling at him.”

I once again turned my attention to the evening sky. Davy’s words brought me a new perspective. The sunset was now more than a swirl of reds and yellows making intricate and beautiful patterns in the sky. It was a reminder of Eloise and others who had passed on and their love for those they had left behind.

As we drove on in silence, I watched the sunset fade into night. I was suddenly more aware of the beauty of the trees, the stars, the moon, and the clouds. I am thankful to Heavenly Father for the beautiful gifts he gives us every day. And I am thankful for a wise young boy who can see Heavenly Father’s love in something as simple as a sunset.

Photography by David Farr; photo manipulation by Patric Gerber