A forecast.

Utah weather.

Saturday: 70 degrees, sunshine, cloudless blue sky.
No jacket, no problem.
Smile. A lot.

Sunday: Wind speeds up to 28932744 mph in the morning, blizzard in the afternoon, -12421 degrees, gray skies.
No parka? Forget about it.
Cringe. A lot.

That's a wall you never want to hit. The -12421 degree wall.

It might have been the 28932744 mph that knocked me into it. The wall, I mean. I pancaked against it today. Hard.

It's probably a byproduct of sailing so high on Friday. The wind knocked me off of my cloud. Not nine, but something close. Maybe ten. Yeah, we'll call it cloud ten. It was inevitable I suppose-- that I be knocked off of that cloud. That's the way it seems, anyway. Every time I make it up there to that cloud ten, it's a short lived sensation, and the miserable descent occurs almost immediately after.

My mom says it's to keep me humble.
I say I don't know.

I wonder why I came down so rapidly, after such a beautiful ascent.
Sitting from our table on the roof, The House of the Lord shone through the night-- brighter than all the stars, brighter than the moon. The familiar authority figure who had just spoken in the meeting we had been in stopped and greeted our table. We were surprised to see her, at the least. She stopped, though, even though I'm sure she had a to-do list a mile long. She told us to keep doing what we were doing. You are just great, she said. She let us know that God loved us, and that she loved us. She knew she needed to be there that night-- if only to tell us so. As the tears rolled down our cheeks, we knew it was the truth.

Cloud ten: complete with 70 degree weather and a lot of smiles.

It's the memory of that cloud that is keeping the darker clouds of my countenance at bay tonight. Perhaps I am not perfect. And perhaps I fall from that cloud at times; some days the weather turns blustery, and the temperature becomes cold and lonely. Some days the ascent to that cloud seems utterly impossible; but at some point that day ends, and a new day begins.

With hope of an ascent on tomorrows wings, I close my thoughts and allow for the softness of the neutral night to engulf me.

And I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings.

1 comment:

Claire said...

Oh man, I feel you.

By the way, where have you been all my life?

I'm about finished with hearing your thoughts through blog posts. I'm seeing another Cougar Eat dinner.

Yes, please. Preferably soon.