Gratitude at Twilight

“Let’s go,” the voice of our group counselor rang out. My week at a college program in Idaho had barely begun, and it was already the end of the first day. We walked a short distance from our campsite with the bright blue of the sun’s disappearance just fading below the horizon. Our counselor stopped us all on the dirt road in the center of a field and told us we could go off alone to try to get in touch with the Spirit. I had already chosen my spot—behind us and down a hill, in a stand of trees.

As I slipped away from the rest of my group, I sat down in the grass and began to think. I began to hear the noises of small insects in the grass around me. I then picked up a small pink flower, noticing the details and intricacies that made it. As the sky grew darker, I looked up, noticing the perfectly clear field of millions of stars hovering above me. As I sat thinking, the scriptures about God’s creations popped into my mind. God had created worlds more numerous than the sands of the sea, and yet I looked down at the flower in my hand, at how intricately formed it was. The rest of the week I felt grateful for God’s creations and His care for even the smallest of them.