Some mornings, the sun instantly brightens the sky. And some gloomy mornings merely become more dreary. Yet on others, the midday sun blasts through the clouds and haze and fog. Why do our emotions seem to follow the amount of sunlight? I discovered that our current hometown of Temecula provides a metaphor that might help.
Clouds rolled in
shutting out the sun
its warmth
energy
and joy
leaving life in shades of gray
letting darkness reign
even penetrating my soul
The sun then
blasted through the mist
a column of light connecting sky to earth
reminding me
the sun shines even when obscured
Activities of every day
worries
fears
failings
form the clouds of my life
hiding your light
even penetrating my soul
Blast through
once again connect heaven to earth
remind me
you always shine
even when obcured
Amaze me
once again
Thirty-four years ago we moved to Temecula, an old west town in southern California. The native inhabitants named it--where the sun rises through the mist, as the photo shows. The morning fog often delays the onset of hot afternoons, then the evening southwest breezes brought relief. Life here is good. But some mornings, honestly, I wondered if the sun would ever break through.
But some other mornings continued in their bleakness, both emotionally and spiritually. Almost overcome by the stuff of life, I couldn’t sense God’s presence. He seemed distant, almost not there. Of course, I knew he was omniscient, just as I knew the sun continued to circle the earth even when not visible. In the poem, I mentioned that some clouds formed from my failings. Those failings certainly include the spiritual, but they go further. Like my race, I’m imperfectly human. My talents and drive don’t always yield the results I want.
Sometimes I choose goals I cannot reach, and the inevitable frustration gets to me. The clouds of darkness encompass me. Sometimes the number of tasks exceed the time available to me. And….well, you get the picture. The details vary, but most of my race share the busyness.
I wasn’t stuck as much as occupied. Overwhelmed by too much. I made the decisions, the commitments. And I paid the price: distance from God, the God I loved above all. But you couldn’t tell by my calendar.
In the poem, I asked God to blast through. Reality differed. Some of those clouds I needed to dissipate. Others, only he could do.
KICK STARTING THE APPLICATION
What activities in your life most obscure God’s very real presence? How did they creep in? What has worked to allow the sun to break through? What hasn’t? Any lessons you’ve learned that you care to share?