Letting the Good Wash Over
February has to be one of the hardest months of the year for me. Life never fails to be hectic, cold, gray. The sunlight is pale and its warmth is never enough to take off the chill. The season itself is hard, but life--more years than not--mirrors the slump of winter. This year's February has been a mix of fast-paced evenings, long lonely hours, uneasiness and uncertainty about so many different things, and the mingled joys of little moments. To say that it's been ugly would be unfair. But I can't quite bring myself to say it's been beautiful, either.
Sometimes what our souls need most is to sit and let the good wash over.
I sat this morning feeling raw and empty. I can't quite put my finger on the reasons why, but sometimes no reason is needed. I read earlier this week that desperation, in itself, is not bad. That sometimes we have to sit with the desperation, the loneliness, the hurt. Sit and let them do their good work. They shape us, don't they? They drive us on when little else could have motivated. And so I've sat with it all.
And then something new. As I listened to songs about love that reaches beyond our gray, beyond our pain, beyond ourselves, I began to remember. All the little good things. The little moments. The little blessings. The little circumstances that could have been worse and weren't. The blessing of family. The gift of food to eat. The joy of anticipation of all the new things that are just barely beyond today. The sweetness of a little face looking up into mine and calling me, "Mama." The warmth of a hand that holds mine when words alone couldn't reach my heart. The sound of a bird braving the cold. The beam of sunlight just barely peeking through the clouds. The promise that winter is not forever.
There is good in every season. Not just in the anticipation of tomorrow, but in today. I watched my computer screen as picture after picture rolled by. I am blessed. Even in winter. I sat and let the good wash over--whether the good be big or small--and I let it wash away the desperation and loneliness. They've done their good work. They've given me pause, softened my heart. Now they drive me forward, to seek the good. To let its fullness--be it pale or bright--wash over me and make me new.
Sometimes what our souls need most is to sit and let the good wash over.
I sat this morning feeling raw and empty. I can't quite put my finger on the reasons why, but sometimes no reason is needed. I read earlier this week that desperation, in itself, is not bad. That sometimes we have to sit with the desperation, the loneliness, the hurt. Sit and let them do their good work. They shape us, don't they? They drive us on when little else could have motivated. And so I've sat with it all.
And then something new. As I listened to songs about love that reaches beyond our gray, beyond our pain, beyond ourselves, I began to remember. All the little good things. The little moments. The little blessings. The little circumstances that could have been worse and weren't. The blessing of family. The gift of food to eat. The joy of anticipation of all the new things that are just barely beyond today. The sweetness of a little face looking up into mine and calling me, "Mama." The warmth of a hand that holds mine when words alone couldn't reach my heart. The sound of a bird braving the cold. The beam of sunlight just barely peeking through the clouds. The promise that winter is not forever.
There is good in every season. Not just in the anticipation of tomorrow, but in today. I watched my computer screen as picture after picture rolled by. I am blessed. Even in winter. I sat and let the good wash over--whether the good be big or small--and I let it wash away the desperation and loneliness. They've done their good work. They've given me pause, softened my heart. Now they drive me forward, to seek the good. To let its fullness--be it pale or bright--wash over me and make me new.
