He Is Near

The equations required to properly balance early morning weather with appropriate walking apparel are more than my brain wants to handle at 5:30.  A glance at the thermometer does not always help, although it can usually put me in the ballpark of the proper number of layers.  At thirty-three degrees, I only need one pair of pants (and can stride more quickly), but at nineteen degrees a fourth layer on top is a must.  Stated wind chill influences whether or not one of those is nylon.  Still, there are mornings when the only words I exchange with my walking partner are, "It feels so much colder than twenty-one."  Clearly, my calculations were off.

Of particular delight to me are the times we veer toward the hill and face the surprising truth that the day is not as cold as the so-called forecasters promised.  Usually we don't see the sunrise that morning, because the cloud cover is so thick that everything is squished down under a heavy greyness.  Which is a blessed, blessed thing to a body that acutely feels the nuances of temperature.  The clouds, my scientist walking buddy explained, have held in the warmth of yesterday's sun.  While it is enchanting to march along marking the colors changing almost every minute, I meditate on the lesson that an overcast sky is bringing a different kind of gift.  A much less ostentatious one than a magenta sunrise, but a kindness just the same. 

I have been looking at clouds from at least two sides these days.  Events of recent years have combined with my deeply rooted selfishness to create devastating chasms in relationships.  The weight of the damage and the loss of companionship hang over daily life with an almost physical presence.  Without any context or prompting, a close acquaintance asked about the state of "things".  Surprised, I described the last week with a lifting of the clouds in one area.  If not actually sunny, there had been a distinct brightening.  As I teared up with relief and gratitude she wisely observed that if it was not a permanent shift,  it was the gift of a respite.  

While we were in the middle of this summer's dry season a different wise woman shared the exchange she held with her husband following a brief downpour.  "Twenty minutes of rain," she fretted, "that's not enough."   It wasn't sufficient to end the drought, but it was relief -- a little bit at just the proper time.  Convicted of her lack of faith, she thanked God for the gift He had provided.  And she brought that message to me. 

Today the sun warmed our part of the world and highlighted the leaves brightly burning in their autumnal array.  Today I held a precious baby who is growing and thriving and supported by an admiring fan club.  Today a message of repentance, mercy and forgiveness ministered to foolish, wayward sheep.
Cloud cover and rain showers.

The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears,
And delivers them out of all their troubles.
The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart,
And saves such as have a contrite spirit.

Many are the afflictions of the righteous,
But the Lord delivers him out of them all.