Shade

And just like that, the converse swoops in and I am filled with peace. I can think of few things but warm sun and hot coffee, easy laughter and the reliable progression of a good book. I praise God for the times when such pleasantries cloud only my windshield; there are times when I feel they've retreated to my rearview. See: previous post. But like time passes, so do the moods, not only inside time but beside it, as comfortably and calmly. The transitions shake me like tropical winds, but from afar, I am sure I am nothing but a lone sailor on a tempestuous sea. The same clouds that rain create shade--I both curse and praise them.

I love God more clearly than I ever have. I love Him with the sort of gut-replacing, profession-requiring, woe-eclipsing, sun-brightening ferocity I've only ever known for... well, nothing. How can you love someone who loves you perfectly any less than completely?

I don't know if I'm doing it as ambitiously or efficiently or glamorously or memorably as possible, --in fact, I'm sure I'm not-- but this whole living life thing, I do recognize every day that I'm doing it as I'd wish I were. That I've taken steps to amass a set of circumstances I fall asleep thankful for. And by taken steps I mean remained mindful of what obedience to God can provide. He is good. And as a result, if you ask me, most evenings, I'd reply with the same.