My favorite month has begun with a night of slow sweet rain and a morning covered in clouds, gray and heavy with promises of more rain.
I could hope that tomorrow will be better–but it is today that opens up to me.
Tomorrow never really comes. The “tomorrows’ always–as surely as a ticking clock silently wanders from hour to hour–become todays.
There is a sad futility in avoiding today or of “unliving” today as one waits, hopes in tomorrow’s dream. If I so live today expecting tomorrow, I live in a frantic, peace-less today.
And it is NOW–this day that is brimming with fullness of the presence and pressure of His hands, molding me, shaping me–as I trust those hands.
The birds are having breakfast, served to them without any worry or planning on their part. (My house is not in a finished settled state–does a house ever become finished?-from the move, but the bird feeders are functioning properly!) I wonder that they even know it is raining!
I was awed at my readings this morning as they matched my same thoughts:
“God is in fact always passing into the everyday and often colorless fabric of the life of each one of us. He passes in this way among us in order to fashion us into his form and likeness and to perfect us in his love. Sometimes he does this slowly and silently, acting like drops of water that take so many years to hollow out the rock, and with so much discretion that we are hardly aware of it. At other times, he acts so quickly that he takes us by surprise. . .” The Presence of God, Elisabeth-Paule Labat
How could I possibly let this day pass in dreamy expectation or in one of grumbling discourse?
Just think–he is using each drop of today–for the todays to come!
“. . .you will fill me with joy in your presence. . .” Psalm 16:11