The sky looked strange today. Smoke from the Canadian wildfires drifted in and settled over everything, turning the sunlight hazy and the air a little heavy. It gave the whole day an eerie feeling, like the world had paused to hold its breath. I sat on the porch for a few minutes this morning and just noticed it. The quiet. The strange orange tint to the light. The way even the birds seemed less certain of themselves.
I found myself thinking about Psalm 36:8, where it says we take refuge in the shadow of God’s wings. That image feels different to me today. Usually I picture shelter as something soft, something calm. But today the shelter feels necessary. The air outside is not safe to breathe deeply. The wildlife out there, the birds, the deer, the small creatures in the woods behind our house, have nowhere to go but through it. They cannot check an air quality app or close a window. They just endure it, the way creation has always had to endure the harder days alongside us.
And yet Psalm 36 does not say we are sheltered instead of the storm. It says we are sheltered inside of it. God does not always remove the smoke. Sometimes He simply stays close while it passes through. That feels true for our own hard seasons too, the ones that cloud our heads and make the day feel strange and heavy, even when we cannot point to exactly why. We do not always get clear skies right away. But we are told, again and again, that we are held.
I do not have this all figured out today. My head feels a little cloudy too, if I am honest. But I trust that the same love sheltering the wildlife outside my window is sheltering me, even in the haze.
Lord, thank You for staying close on the hazy days, the ones where nothing feels quite clear. Shelter the wildlife who cannot escape today’s air, and shelter our hearts too, especially when we cannot see far ahead. Remind us that Your love covers us even in the smoke.
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