Last week the sky poured rain in gutters with the steady pace of a metronome. Cast against a dark sky, my favorite trees looked arthritic, their black branches bent and crooked.
I rely on the sun to set the day and mark its progress. Rocking with the sunrise wakes my soul. All I could do this morning was imagine it in the sky behind the iron curtain. Envision the low place just above the tree line where it would be at 9:30 am. This is my favorite time to sit with the sun in my kitchen. It bathes the counter with a soft and spiritual glow that gives me an extraordinary sense of calm. It’s as if I’m wrapped in peace and everything is more than fine.
When it rains day after day, which it has this week, the sun becomes a matter of faith. You have to envision it’s place on the horizon and call on your soul for memories of its soothing power.
Gray skies still have strength. They force you to concentrate on the sun’s blessings. I am praying for the faith and imagination required to feel the sun’s peace without its light. This exercise may seem low on the faith scale. It’s not about heaven or loving Jesus. Still, I find the healing power of the sun miraculous.
Embrace faith wherever you find it. Scoop it up and feed it. All faith is worthy and good and shouldn’t be measured or compared just like love.