Gray days make me want to run. Clouds alone are not enough to send me into a tail-spin, but every once in awhile a patch of unsettled weather aligns with the end of a season, and hormones, and individually meaningless disappointments, all working together to make me feel as unsettled as the boiling gray clouds above me with tears seeming as close the mist that refuses to rain. On days like this I feel I hear my name in the wind and see the road rising up before me, daring me to leave it all behind and just start over. The lies of discontent become almost overwhelming and the ties of love and common sense seem to be stretched to the limit. For a day or two I dream of how deliciously romantic it would be to just keep driving past my exit on my way home from work...to drive far enough to drown out the "nevers" and "maybes", the "shoulda dones" and "coulda dones"....and i think how wonderful to be Mary Poppins or that lady from Chocolat who would just pick up and leave whenever their job was done and the wind changed. I crave the feeling of jumping without a net, of spreading my arms and flying with reckless abandon.
On days like this I wonder how a season of glorious possibility, that was once so full of promise and plan, is drawing to a close before all the dreams could be fulfilled. I remember dreams of long ago that still hang unrealized. And I stew in unlived memories with only a cup of tea for company. How lovely to just leave the disappointments behind and create new memories, in a new place where no one knows my name or what to expect from me. I look at the lives of those around me and see them moving on while I feel stuck in the mud and mire.
Lies are easier to believe on gray days. It's not that I doubt the love of my family and friends, it is their love that keeps me here instead of running when this restless spirit hits.
Praise God He does not let me stay here long. Behold the power of a beautiful redheaded baby boy snuggled into my chest as we dance to every song comes on the radio. Babysitting my favorite redheaded nephew tonight was exactly what I needed. As he sleeps in the room next to me and I begin to clean up the broken bits of dinner left of the floor I realize that God was here, these pieces of tomato and bread and hummus are bits of manna from heaven, my Father's love sent to comfort my soul....yes there are dreams still unrealized and hungers still unsatisfied but He is good and has promised good to me. Little by little my Father is teaching me to trust Him in the midst of longing, not to meet the need but that He will be enough.
Realizing my brokenness and God's wholeness with Emily for Imperfect Prose