Sunday, March 16, 2014

the light.

 It's that time of year where the city is bone dry. 
Where things are a bit less green and a bit more brown and dusty. The time where the sky is rather hazy and polluted, with views just a little less stunning. And the days where your eyes sting, nose burns, and deep breaths don't come quite as easily. 

But no matter how many of these days pass on, a steady stream of color and light still manage to break through. Sometimes it's in the form of flowers that flash their bold colors, unhindered by the drought. Other times it's in the way that so many neighborhoods express their vivid personalities in rows of kaleidoscopic homes, restaurants, shops, and markets. 

But most often, the thing bringing light and life to a particular day is the unexpected kindness of a stranger, the generous smile of a passerby, or the pleasant words of a friend. 

Kind of like how a youngster at church today grabbed my whole head, pulled me in, and planted a hearty smooch on my cheek when I bent down to greet him. 
Or how the sweet old lady lingered as she held onto my hands to say, "Oh Sammy. I missed you…". 
Or the way some friends came back for three or four goodbyes before leaving, squeezing in yet another hug and farewell wish. 

In a season characterized by a low-hanging, hazy gloom, here's to hoping I am part of the light breaking through. 

...then shall your light rise in the darkness and your gloom be as the noonday…

Isaiah 58:10

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