Posts Tagged ‘warmth’


A gray morning it has been. Cold. And dark. Very gray. I pad around my house, the November cold seeping in through the windows and doors, chilling the air on all three floors of my home. My bare feet quickly lose whatever warmth they had found in our bed last night and I begin to wonder where my house shoes might be hiding. Layers are added. A tshirt. A sweatshirt. Warmer pants. I struggle with wanting to be up and about. Days like these are much more conducive to some hot tea and a good book than piles of laundry, a sink full of dishes and errands that need running.

When the gray morning hours have passed, I step into my kitchen. The sun has just found it’s way out of the clouds and a ray of light is beaming through the window over my sink and onto the cold linoleum floor. My hunger leads me to the refrigerator. I open it’s doors, grab a stack of containers and turn to set them on the counter behind me. I turn this way and that, grabbing needed items from cabinets and drawers. As I turn back to the counter from which I began, my feet encounter a pleasant and momentarily unrecognizable sensation.

“Warmth” my brain finally processes. It is warmth that I feel beneath my feet. I turn to look. A square of sunlight. A square of warmth. I pause and savor the reprieve.

My thoughts quickly turn to my Creator as I once again, as happens on occasion, encounter a physical/external occurrence that speaks to me about the nature of the Spiritual/Internal, about the nature of God Himself.

And I am thankful for this. For it is only with great effort that my mind can begin to grasp the nature of Spirit, the nature of the Unseen. It is through experiences like this one that His presence becomes a little more real. And a little more describable.

And so I think-

It is so cold in here without Him. And dark. And gray.

But He is always near. Patiently waiting for us to turn and notice. Patiently warming a spot beside us until we realize how cold we are without Him and step into the Light. Unwaveringly offering reprieve.

If only we would accept it. If only we would notice. If only we would move.

We might begin to warm up.

“The people walking in darkness have seen a great Light; on those living in the land of deep darkness, a Light has dawned.”  -Isaiah 9:2


Read Full Post »

I hear the alarm. It is 5:45 a.m. I push snooze till 6:00 then lie in bed, mostly awake, and stare at the ceiling, debating if it is worth crawling out of my warm bed to put on the fourteen articles of clothing that it will take to keep me warm for my morning run.

As I lay there, I remember being awakened at 3:00 a.m and rolling over to check my phone, realizing then that the sound on my phone (and therefore my alarm) was off. I remember turning the sound on and thinking “I’m glad something woke me up or I would not have heard my alarm at 5:45 and probably would have slept too late to fit in a run before the hubby needed to leave for work.”

I decide then, as I remember my 3:00 a.m wake up call, and for a number of other reasons, that I should get up.

I roll out of bed, gather my mound of clothing, take it to the bathroom and turn on the heater. I put on my layers and wash my face, tie my laces and head upstairs to the kitchen. I eat a quick breakfast and down half a bottle of water. I finish layering, grab my Garmin and my music and slip out the back door and into the cold morning air. I walk to the end of my driveway, feeling the cold seep through the layers of fabric I am wearing, and begin a slow jog, knowing that in ten minutes my entire body will have warmed despite the 24 degree temperature.

I breathe long, slow, deep breaths, practicing the Hamsa mantra that I recently learned about and have been using and appreciating at various moments throughout my day. The cold air burns my throat and my lungs, I look forward to the moment when I have warmed enough to not feel this anymore. I am listening to Kings of Leon.

I run to the end of my street, turn right and begin a long, gradual uphill stretch that gets me good and toasty by the time I reach the end of it. I follow West Longdale to Wauford and take a left. This begins a long, gradual downhill stretch that I relax into, Hamsa-ing my way down, past my brother’s house and around a slight bend in the road.

It is as I am rounding this bend that I feel the first rays of sunshine; the first in (what at least feels like and might actually be) months. The rays warm my face and for a moment I close my eyes. I drink in the warmth and the light and it slowly, soothingly wraps itself around me, overwhelming me. I breathe it in and I am certain I can actually smell the sunlight.

In this moment of warmth and light and sunshine I find myself feeling a strong and somewhat inexplicable sense of…hope. And joy! Joy that after a long, cold, dark winter…spring will always come! And hope because even when the rain seems endless, the cold never-ending, and the darkness overwhelming…we will feel His light again.

And as this hope and this joy fill my heart and my head and my belly, I begin to feel the fog from the past month lifting and the Spirit of peace settling in around me.

My gratitude for this hope and joy and peace is so overwhelming that my eyes begin to fill with tears as my breathe quickens into shallow,  uncontrollable sobs.

I fight the urge to fall on my knees with my hands to the Heavens, realizing that I am still in the middle of my neighborhood, surrounded by houses with windows and neighbors getting into their cars.

Instead, feeling fully and completely aware of and touched by my Father and Creator, I calm my breathing and continue to run. And I marvel, that on a cold winter morning in the middle of February, I met my God on Wauford.

“Let the light of Your face shine upon us, O Lord.” Psalm 4:6

Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: