Looking West

One of the first things I fell in love with at the Casa was my westward facing window. For the past ten months, I have had the pleasure of calling room number eleven in Casa San Salvador my own and the greater pleasure of bearing witness to the many beautiful sunsets it has offered me. The glorious colors of the evening never cease to halt me in my day, reminding me that the now is ephemeral and inviting me to be present in it. 

I have found that gazing at the setting sun is its own kind of ministry of presence. I am not doing anything as I look out my window, and yet gazing allows me to simply be with God’s creation. I am reminded of Francis’ Canticle of the Creatures as the day wanes; Brother Sun, Sister Earth, Brother Fire, and Sister Bodily Death dance in harmony as the day dies and the evening dawns, displaying the splendor of their Creator for every eye that stops to look. 

As my year in room eleven draws to a close and the sun continues to set outside my window, it invites me to remember that my time at the Casa is itself like a day. It is long while you are in it but flies by at the end. It is valuable in itself, but grows much greater when added to all the days that come before and after. It is always meant to pass away, but in its death lies its meaning. 

That window facing west is one of my most photographed spots in the house this year. Time and again, I have sought to capture the beauty it presents me, its emotion and splendor, to save for when it is gone. Some attempts have been more successful than others. When I look at these snapshots, I recall, in the imperfect way of memory, what it was like to be in a now that is gone. 

Question for Reflection: When have you taken time to be present and witness a sunset?