This Morning

The clouds are still grey with a hint of blue in them.  The fresh dogwood blooms are dampened by the early morning rain, and are dripping and drooping towards the lush, wet grass.  Sparrows call and finches chirp, calling the sun out from the shadows where it sleeps.  The softest breeze kisses the pine branches enough to induce droplets to tumble down, and the maple branches dance as the horizon grows brighter and brighter with every call of the waxwing.  The colors of Springtime are now illuminated fully as the orange rays spill over the grass.  Yet the sun shrinks back.  A tossing wind stirs the branches now, and then stops again.  

I smell the wetness of the yard through my window as the sun attempts to show its face again.  But alas, it is for a mere second before it seems I only imagined the rays.  And then...light!  Beautiful sunshine!  Here to stay...but gone again.  

It is fascinating how every day seems to be the same, but then it is different also.  Each day something happens, and the next day I think differently of everything than I did the day before, after my dreams cultivate in my brain.  My opinions don't change much, for I am not some wet blanket or another.  But even one mild event in one day can change an entire outlook in the next.  A friend and I long for childhood again, dress up in long skirts, and go take a midnight walk, stopping only to lay in a hammok to gaze longingly at the stars.  We talk of the future, of hopes and desires, and we make promises to each other all over again.  Another friend writes and reminds me of the life ahead of me; how the key to it is to simply walk through the open door, no matter how daunting the doorway is.  A book I chanced upon finally makes it all clear, that my idleness and idolatry are in vain.  My family is proof that there really is no place like home.

The direction does not have to be 100% clear.  The end does not have to be visable.  Then how am I supposed to know what is right?  Instinct is as trustworthy as stranger's casual opinion.  But God is good, and he has blessed me thus far.  Just because I cannot see does not mean I am walking blindly.  It would be better to lose my sight altogether; it would make me more fully rely on my Father, and acknowledge that he is the only one who really has the true ability to see anything.  

Outside it has grown dark again, with only a hint of what brightness kept peeping out.  But perhaps today is a day for clouds, and tomorrow the sun with shine.  

~Jessica