Keeping vigil

As I drove into work last night a mist was coming in. Clouds are holy I think. They are mysterious, hiding the world. By veiling the world they actually have the effect of revealing it more, or perhaps they remind humans there is more than what is readily seen. The unseen shows more than the seen. Or something. I love passing under clouds only a few feet above my head. Somehow it makes me feel close to God. Is that presumptuous?
There is also a mystery staying awake while the world sleeps. Again, a practice which carries with it a certain connection to something beyond the human. First of all, it is inhuman simply by the fact that humans can not sustain sleeplessness. By not sleeping I momentarily deny my humanness. I keep watch over the earth like the moon and the stars. I keep watch because someone needs to keep watch at all times. To work a night shift is very much a participation in a divine mystery. I always thought I was not a night person. And I am not really. I am however, a meaning driven person, and give me enough meaning I can keep watch all night.
There was no dawn as I drove home this morning. There was no boundary to sky and earth. All was grey. It was dark when I left, and by the time I had arrived back home it was morning. The trees are covered in hoarfrost. Another holy act. Out of the grayness of the night comes the most beautiful morning. And even though there is still no sun there is beauty. I read “holy” written everywhere on earth. I derive much meaning and direction watching how forgiving nature is to the boundless—she does not panic in the mist, but allows it to transform her.