I had the chance yesterday to lay on my back and float in a pool, so you know that was the chance I took.
It was one of those calendar days — the sky unnaturally blue, the clouds piercingly white, and the sun bold and blazing. Ah. Not a snow shovel in sight.
I drifted in silence, watching the language of the sky: the perfectly round, blinding sun in a background of blue, with clouds in no hurry shifting, clumping, breaking apart, and clearing again. The whole dance engaged me. It came to me suddenly that the heavens are not static, like a watercolor stripe across the top of the page, but are ever shifting, ever expressing beauty. So because the noise of life was temporarily suspended, with my watch, cell phone, and lists parked out of reach, I was able to see the glory that had been there all along. It was my ticket to refreshment, and for some time, I thought-fully roamed wherever my mind took me.
After a while, from my right, came a mass of heavy gray clouds, curling like smoke and overtaking the clear, sunny sky I’d been enjoying. The white clouds were gone, the blue was obstructed and the sun was hidden.
But I knew it was still there.
And the wind picked up and it felt like rain, but still I watched and waited. In the ever-darkening heavens, black birds wheeled and cawed, yet I did not move. I could not bring myself go inside. I floated, searching, waiting. I wanted to see that sun again.
And eventually, I did! The gray shifted, and I blinked against the sudden circle of hope shining right in my eyes. The sun, bright as ever, was where I’d last seen it, still hung in that same brilliant blue sky, completely unchanged by my perception of it. Though moments later, the sun was covered once more by storm clouds, one truth remained.
That sun was still there!
My thoughts returned to the simple truth that the sun stays fixed in the heavens, and does not disappear just because I can’t see it all the time. The same holds true in life: “weeping endures for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” (Psalm 30:5) The shadows, the heartaches, the rain of life may come and come and come for a long, long time. But they are not the full picture. The Son is still here, and He is up to good. He brings light in darkness, and warmth where there is chill.
Yesterday the sun had the final word. As I had hoped, the gray went away and the light shone so bright, I had to shut my eyes. Mmm. I love the sun. I welcomed its warmth on my skin and felt it go clear to my bones. And when I opened the blinds this morning and saw the morning downpour, the memory of yesterday’s light reminded me the dark would not be permanent.
Funny, but as I’ve been writing, the deluge outside my window has gradually lessened. The trees, earlier bent by wind and driven by rain, seem to be straightening up and embracing the light and warmth of the sun that is still there. They’re calling to me to come join them.
Well, I don’t want to be impolite. See you soon.