In the sky, mysterious phenomena abound: rainbow, aurora borealis, crepuscular rays and sun beams, mirages and phantom fires, twinkling stars, Relámpago del Catatumbo—a never-ending lightning storm, raining fish in Honduras and Idaho's fire rainbow; how often have the clouds offered beautiful shapes and stunning acrobatics, flowing formations and dynamic displays in the midst of a heavenly, evening sun? Sitting with my dearest brothers along the southeastern rim of Big Bends' Chisos basin, clouds rolled across the sky with ferocity akin to a liger on the hunt, a full cloud coverage enveloping the peaks and rim in a fine mist. Enshrouded in dull gray, gnarled trees stood dripping as wind whipped the white of water vapors between the branches.
"I'm scared out of my wits right now," said Glen Miglin, mage of the knightly classes of chivalry and knowledge.
Though adults, all-knowing high school graduates whom had braved the highways of western Texas (and suffered duly through them for the miles of flatland), Glen, Robby, Justin and I remained in awe and fear of the incoming storm. Until the clouds swept into sight, the world was at our beck-and-call; now, we all feared to find our limiting lives.
"It's the dementors; the dementors are coming, I know that's what it is," said Robert Teas, esquire and gentleman in the finest class of character, "Cover your eyes, I've got you," he offered comfortingly to a terrified Wilhelm Piggins.
All while sitting on a precipice overlooking the outlying deserts of Big Bend National Park, the most beautiful, safe, flat land we had ever seen — the dry land we so yearned for while trembling atop the craggy cliffs of dementor-faced death.
Fearful and broken as we were, our camaraderie broke through the reverie for each of us, softening the blow of our mortality: together, we knew we could face the onslaught of a thousand dementors, nay, two thousand!
"Ok, I think it's time," said Justin Sztroin, the fine page and loyal retainer.
We knew we could face them together because Justin had a proper patronus charm in the form of a golden retriever; as nature's terrors grew, as heaven's horrors multiplied, our hunting group of companions sat at ease. Calmly, we followed the fall of the sun and the rush of the wind, gazing upon the might and power of the heavens.
Together, at peace with our lot in life, we also had a finer peace by knowing that God formed the skies and their every motion from the start.
"In the beginning, God created the Heavens..."
Lord of light and love of our hearts, God formed the world and all of its gracious wonders — and nature holds the closest glimpse of His glory safe to see with our imperfect human eyes. With might and power, He created weather patterns and (super)natural phenomena that simply take one's breath away. The God of the Heavens, as described in Psalm 136, deserves our praise:
“Give thanks to the God of heaven. His love endures forever.”
Awesome in power, endless in all things, God maintains dominion over his carefully created works; though storms may crawl across our skies, even race forth darkly and foreboding, we may all rest in peace that God stands at the end of the wind-torn fields awaiting our arrival.
Dementors and demons hold nothing to our God, and in his pure wisdom He holds the last laugh against Satan this weekend of Easter.
"He was pierced for our transgressions..." — and so we live.