The Orb in the Cloud
It has been a wonderfully strange weekend—one filled with unexpected visits, emotional clarity, and moments that felt guided by something greater than myself. The kind of weekend that feels both earthly and otherworldly all at once.
The surprise visit from my granddaughter came just when it was needed most—for her, and perhaps for me, too. She had arrived with a quiet heaviness about her, carrying the weight of some painful experiences that she hadn’t fully unpacked until now. Over long conversations, we began to untangle the threads of those events—some traumatic, some just part of the heartbreak of growing up. It was raw, but it was healing. We both needed this.
As the day stretched on, we both felt the need to shift the energy. We wanted to laugh, to feel light again, to breathe in the sky and soak in the sun. So, we did what we often do in moments like this—we got in the pool.
Floating under the open sky brought with it a sense of calm, of joy even. The kind that only comes when you're surrounded by water and love and the quiet companionship of someone who understands you. Dusk was beginning to draw a soft curtain of lavender and gold across the horizon. A small storm cloud was brewing to the north, but it felt distant, more theatrical than threatening.
As we drifted lazily, I found myself watching the northern sky, speaking absentmindedly as my eyes traced the edges of the storm. And then—it happened.
Out of nowhere, a perfectly round, glowing white orb appeared. It emerged from the center of the dark cloud I’d been watching, stark and luminous against the moody sky. It wasn't the Moon. It wasn’t a planet or a reflection. It was something else entirely—something not of this world.
It took my breath away.
It was large, impossibly round, and glowing with an unnatural brilliance—beautiful and eerie all at once. I sat up on my float, stunned. It seemed at once far away and intimately close. As awe overtook me, I pointed and called out to my granddaughter: “Hey, look at that big bright circle over there!”
She turned to see it, but just as her gaze shifted toward the cloud—it vanished. Instantly. As if it had never been there at all.
I was left blinking at the empty sky, caught between amazement and frustration. She hadn’t seen it. That moment, meant for sharing, was mine alone. But maybe… that was the point.
I knew, without question, that I had just glimpsed something from another dimension. It wasn’t a hallucination or a trick of light—it was deliberate. It wanted to be seen. Not by both of us—just by me.
I believe now that the orb was a message. A spiritual nudge. A reminder.
So much truth had been stirred up that day—old wounds exposed, old fears spoken aloud—and in return, something beyond our understanding offered a sign. Maybe it was an assurance. Maybe it was a way of saying, You, are not alone in this.
Experiences like this don’t come with easy explanations. They come with wonder and with questions. They ask us to sit in uncertainty, to stay open to meaning that unfolds slowly.
Tonight, I’ll sleep with my heart open and my spirit listening. Maybe it will return in a dream. Maybe it won’t. But I trust that clarity will come. It always does.
After all, there is always a reason for the strange. We just have to be willing to look deeper.
