We’re almost a third of the way through this year. I’ve slogged my way through most of it, lifting one heavy, mud-caked foot after the other, in a fugue-like state. I can’t say why.
This is life. It’s not always mountain top and it’s not always valley, sometimes it’s mile after mile of flat nothing-to-see prairie. You’d think I’d be comfortable here, for some reason I’m not.
It’s a lie to say that there’s nothing to see on the prairie. On the contrary: some of the greatest gifts are there. I challenge myself to be still, lean in, and listen—the very things I write about in my new book, the things I know I need.
Right now, the April gray isn’t helping anything at all. Early this morning I saw something magical in the red eastern sky that sparked delight. It didn’t linger, and soon the gray overtook it, but it was there for a time nonetheless.
And so, Monday of the last full week of the gray month and an opportunity to do something different, to begin again. Onward.
Thanks for putting my feelings down in a blog post. I’m slogging through the grayness of this last part of April too! So tired of the imposing darkness of the skies.
When I look back, it seems that it’s not unusual for April to be gray. Maybe it seems harder to bear because we’re so near to full-on spring and sunshine. Hope we both get a good measure of that soon, Sherrey.