Dear God:

Thank you for the softness of the morning sun, glowing behind a thin veil of clouds as I drove into work this morning. It reminded me of Your always presence. It reminded me that even when life is cold and foggy and confusing, You are still there, sending Your warmth and comfort. And, it reminded me that all that cold and fog and confusion is really only a thin veil, and not a wall of bricks and stones held together by cement.

You see, God, lately I have been wondering when the Spring will come for me. I don’t mean the Spring that everyone else is waiting for (You know what I’m talking about since it snowed earlier this week and it’s April!). The Spring I’m referring to is the one that I’ve been journeying toward for most of my life. Surviving the freezing of my heart and soul through dysfunctional childhood, hoping for an early thaw. Enduring the blizzard of addiction and abuse, hoping for rain to wash away the tears. Feeling the frost of uncertainty as my body and mind and soul has trudged the path of recovery. These winter years of my life are wearing me out. I am longing for Spring.

I know that Spring is short, and so is summer and fall. I understand that after the winter, the seasons of life won’t last long. But here’s the thing: I want flowers. I want flowers that are every shade of yellow and pink and red and purple. I want to see bunnies and chipmunks running about. I want to hear birds chirping. I want to sit in the sun with my eyes closed, breathing in the luscious scents of lilacs and honeysuckle. I want to walk in the dirt of the forest and happen upon a doe and her fawns. I want to hear the crash of the ocean waves as I soak in the peace that only a day at the beach can bring. And I want to breathe in the autumn leaves when they appear, welcoming them with a sigh of relief.

All those things I want, God. You already know this, I know. I also know that only You know when I will be ready for all those things I want. In fact, in telling You all this, I realize my impatience and unfaithfulness in Your plan. I hope You will forgive me for that, and just focus on my gratitude. My gratitude for the softness of the morning sun, glowing behind a thin veil of clouds as I drove into work this morning – reminding me of Your always presence.

Thank You, God, for loving me – especially when I am being so damn human.

Jessica

P.S. And, thank You TONS for Fridays!