Contemplations, Rainy Sunday

Another Sunday afternoon, another weekend that seemed to have raced by... like a vapor, a flash of lightning, something so quick to leave that I have to question whether I really witnessed it. It's raining again, I'm sitting outside underneath a patio cover and listening to the storm pitter pattering onto the pavement, into the pool, upon rooftops; it soaks the city. Beautiful is the only word that comes to mind...and I know I tend to use it quite often, but this world is fo full of beautiful sights and moments that deserve to bear a similar label...

I find myself closing my eyes between sentences to enjoy the smell, the tickles to my ear drums... the feel of my once warm skin as it numbs against the cold wintry air... and though I feel a sorrow in my soul, an unsettling ache, I can't help but surrender to this very moment, a moment too beautiful to pass...

I grab the daily news, it's a rainy afternoon, I'll read the black and white till the words fade on...

I read an article in this morning's paper about a lady, a mother of 3 who had her second bought of cancer. The article begins with the fact that she was given about 6 months to live. Chemotherapy would only prolong her life to about a year, so she decided to try and live out what few days she had left without the ill affects of that type of radiation. This mother and wife was spending each day attempting to instill precious lessons into her children, something she thought she would have decades more to do... for just like you and I, she imagined to live a "long" life. The article follows her spending time with her family and friends, camping, traveling and preparing her husband as best as she can to take over both parenting roles...the article ended with her passing and a cold, sobering punctuation mark. A period never felt so final to me in all the literature I've read.

These are the stories that deserve more than a read. They beg of us to stop and think, to ponder, to slow down and sit outside on a rainy Sunday afternoon, to ask what this life is really all about, to ask "why?" I think I wanted to talk to someone about this, the thoughts that resulted, but feared it might be lost, these ideas, this enormous story... on most of my companions...

I wonder what it is that God has been trying to communicate to me through the course of this period of my life? I wonder what God has been trying to tell me the few years that I have journeyed through thus far. I wonder what God is trying to speak through the mountains, the stars and the changing seasons? God forbid, I miss his precious "words." Most times I feel that He speaks a different language all together, or I do... So I go about my life, my day, my plans... and perhaps He's been trying to communicate with me...but in a language I can't or won't accept. Or is it Truth that I struggle to accept, have I made up mind as to what I want to hear? Is there no room for Him? Do I truly long to follow Him?