Last week the sky was replaced by a seamless blanket the color of danger. Rain flowed down the roof and into gutters with the steady pace of a metronome. Cast in black, my favorite trees looked arthritic with branches bent and crooked. I commune with the sun every morning. Today, I’d have to have faith.
The sun was hidden so I tried to place it in the sky behind the iron curtain of graphite cloud matter. I envisioned the low place just above the tree line where it would be at 9 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 must imagine it’s place on the horizon and call on your soul for memories of sunny mornings.
I believe gray skies have a good side. They force you to think hard about 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 like it’s at the bottom of the faith scale. It’s not about heaven or loving Jesus. Still, I find the soothing power of the sun miraculous. So I say take faith wherever you find it. Scoop it up and feed it. All faith is worthy and good and shouldn’t be measured, just like love.