today: overcast

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On mornings when I don’t have somewhere to be, I wake up and get my coffee and look out the window to determine what kind of run I will have. Sun without wind this time of year generally produces a morning run.

Today, though, through the window, fog and drizzle depressed any effort at moving out the door. I ran late in the day, feeling melancholy, overwhelmed by a too long to-do list. By the time I got to running, I had shopped, been to the bank, dropped off some photos and eaten lunch. I felt hurried, frazzled. It seemed like I internalized the overcast dreariness.
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In my heart I wanted to be rested, hopeful and anticipating Jesus. The one-two rhythm of my feet helped my head clear. Still, I felt anxious and tense when I got home. I do not have words mapped out for Sunday at Grace. I have cards to write and gifts to wrap. And I so, so wanted to be alone.
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Tuesday nights, however, are not for alone. I spend them with Aba and Emma and Lucas these days, and we had gifts to create and cookies to bake. We had pancakes to eat and games to play. We had books to read. All before they had to go to bed. As soon I saw the kids tonight, I started shifting gears. It was effortless, as the kids needed to be cared for, and that’s what I was there to do. I snapped out of melancholy introspection. We laughed and played and talked. By the time they went to bed, my heart had engaged. Their sense of anticipation for the next few days was contagious. I started to feel a little bit more childlike. They enabled me to regain some footing I lost today as I moped around self-involved crapheadedness.

As I drove home, I felt like myself.

In my heart, tonight, I am hopeful and anticipating Jesus. I guess sometimes wanting to be alone robs me of the life others have to give. Tonight three little lives shined their light on me, pint-sized grace given freely. I love that. It’s not every day that things move so fluidly from bad to good. The days when the line seems so clearly drawn… they are sweet. Such days create hope that everything, every little thing, is being revised new.
lindwalls

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