a grey day

It's another grey day, among the first of more to follow in increasing density.  I wonder why it's always the grey days that lend me to pause.  It's this grey indifference, stuck in the middle of of choosing a weather pole.  In an odd way I feel like I can relate to this grey day; not out of choice, but out of circumstance.  You know this circumstance frustrates me; I disagree with You and yet concede to Your will, recognizing all of my inadaquacies, and finally accepting what I know to be true--You are God.

My heart longs for the bright warmth of the sun, embracing the joy and the hope of life, but I am here, ever-conscious of the weather's indifference.  And I find myself pondering the similarities with the grey; within myself--this longing for joy, that lingers in hope; this ambivalence toward love, a confidence amid my uncertainties about life.  Spring feels like a long way off, yet I discover more of what He desires for me to surrender--the small moments of the day; eye contact, a smile, a thank you, a listening ear, a simple response, a note, a hug.  It's as if this grey-ness has sensitized me to what's going on around me, to focus on the people in my days, becoming aware of their needs, their desires, their emptiness that the Lord has graciously filled within my heart.

This season of grey, feels distinct though.  It's as though I'm on a brink--a new exciting endeavor, a mirage that hasn't quite taken shape yet, an adventure, to be sure.  Lord, my hope rests in You, taking sanctuary in Your word and Your daily gifts of encouragement.  I cry out to You, Lord, longing to be rid of these feelings of loss, hurt, and pain, these tears that sting my face, but I'm halted there, embolden by You and Your truths and Your promises calling me out of my woes and into discernment--not in it's conclusivity, but in its inception.  The innermost part of my being takes joy in embarking on this new leg of the thread of our journey together in this epic of Your story You have been unfolding since the beginning of time.  What do You want me to learn, what do You want me to discover dwelling in this place, on this grey day?  What shall I take into tomorrow, I did not possess at dawn?