Car ride confessionals & a change in the air.

Sometimes the rain falls without warning.
The army of a dark sky marching my direction lacks its steady reveal, leaving me with no caution to cling to. Nothing to brace these bare bones, no blanket to hide under. I have always hated it. The grey, lowliness of the clouds, hanging just above my reach. So real. So raw. So broken. 

Like a leaky faucet, the rain musters up the brokenness that the sunny days do so well masking with sun kissed skin, or more freckles. I am driving home from work & the first spud hits the windshield, my gaze reaching the open sunroof over my head. 

& I have felt this shifting in my soul as fear looses it's power & depression looses it's grip. Alarm doesn't come so quickly anymore. The same water that I used to take cover from, hiding in the depths of my sheets, now cooing me as a sweet infant's gasp for new life. I have felt it, detecting it's rising through the thick muddy earth with the surfacing of the worms. 

Release.  

Tension's yoke is cracked as I hear the pitter patter on my windows. Rising my fingers to push the button to shut myself in, closing off the feeling of any foreign droppings, I pulled my hand back to the grip of the steering wheel. No. I will feel.

The slightest breeze playfully tugged the trees autumn leaves into the earth's lap. I saw those drops make such a mess, mud puddles stealing the attention from the green Ohio grass. & it was more than okay. It was freeing, reviving, refreshing, & comforting. Because for a second the world sobs, but it survives. It is crushed, but it is not unrepairable, nor does it stop the world from spinning. 

No longer am I discouraged by the prematurely dark skies that carry more than they can bare. I yearn for it. I desire it. I am the first to find a window seat & the last to leave. Because rain doesn't ruin days, people do. Fear does. Things we hand the remote to, with the power of directing the outcomes of our days. 

It all comes down to a choice.
To see the storm & brace ourselves, labeling the trials & days with bad day blues on the calendar. Expecting nothing more out of them, letting every little thing get under our skin because 'this was already going to be a bad day'. 

Or we can raise our hands to the sky & get out of our cars. We could dance. But you know what could get all the stink eyes? We could jump in mud puddles. We could be fearless, defenseless, wild, & joyful. We could laugh, despite our fear of displacement of a heart felt giggle in hard times, lightening the mood too much. We could be free. & you know what? We are. 

This is the day that the Lord has made;

We will rejoice & be glad in it.

(PSALM 118:24)

Today could have been a big huge waste. Really, all the "stuck in Ohio" Ohians were probably in their glorious pits of despair. The rain couldn't make up it's mind, nor could the sun. Should I shine? Is it appropriate to shine through the rain? Or should I give it time to do it's damage? The rain just couldn't decide whether it was Thursday. 

But it came & all it's beauty. Showers kicking off the hues of brown coated earth (we're not talking chocolate, my friend), we're off to a lovely start. 

& a lovely series.
Series of posts on the horizon for this fall. Where you see my design & guilty pleasures to the fullest. Where I yearn for your heart & increased openness. Where we spread the fire cooking our marshmallows to the fire that warms our fingers & toes. Do I have a plan up the sleeves of this sweater? You betcha.

Stories. Confessions. Thankfulness.   

But, here is my honest heart unfolding to you, so you can read the fine print.

My writing is unplanned, overall, & unscripted. This idea feels divine & exciting & I cannot say I haven't felt some stories surfacing through Holy Spirit for you. But, most importantly in my writing, my desire is to keep my ears & heart vulnerable to the Spirit's voice. There have been times I have written titles of posts & by the end of the post I am talking about nothing related to what I thought I got myself into. You can call it foolish or mindless, but I call it Gods. This is His alone, & when he changes my paths I praise him for a copy & paste & draft tool, where I can save my work for a rainy day. 

Okay, writing unplanned. Could vary. Could be unrelated stories peeking through the surface of this series. Some of these posts could tie together to form the perfect holiday bow, some could be complete, unrelated heartfelt talks. Be clear. I warned you.