Last night I saw a spectacle of such magnitude that I have few words to describe and none that can give it justice. Above the hundreds of acres that is a lake, which borders the tiny village of Waskesiu in Prince Albert National Forrest, Saskatchewan, the lights of the north rose to divide sky before us and spread across the expanse of the wide horizon. They formed into a great halo miles high and beyond the length of Lake Waskesiu and then reflected themselves in the water. We stood in awe, shivering in the early Fall-ish night air, for over an hour as they undulated, changed and danced their way closer. I tilted my head back to discover that we were under the canopy of the most stars I had ever witnessed, including the all of the Milky Way. We oohed and ah’ed when many great stars shot across the night.
I marveled at the greatness of God.
And I wondered what would happen if rainbow colors appeared. Did I need to see a rainbow right now? I didn’t think so. People around me pointed out the greens, the blues, the pinks and oranges. I strained my eyes to see the same colors, even though I didn’t know what they would say to me. Just barely could I make out a hint of orange or pink occasionally. Even my color blind husband saw many colors.
The next day I asked someone who was with us if she saw the colors. No, she had not. I felt better than it wasn’t only me and now I knew why. I wasn’t supposed to see a rainbow because I didn’t need a rainbow last night.
The majesty of the Aurora Borealis was no less awesome as bright and white, to say the least. Considering that I live nowhere near north enough to enjoy the lights regularly, it was likely a once in a lifetime event. I am humbly grateful.
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