It’s been a sunnier holiday season than some years, but there have been overcast moments and gray days as well. Those gray days have formed their own little comfort zone. There is beauty in the cloudy and the overcast. It takes a little pulling back, a slowing down, to notice such subtle prettiness. It’s different in the summer, usually, when the world is more boldly colorful, when there is a saturation of life and vibrancy in everything, even the overcast mornings.
Then I remember the ghost that was this past summer.
Maybe such generalizations are moot. My need to organize and name and decipher meaning in every moment trips me up more often than not, especially in this year of insanity. The lessons learned in that were and are immensely difficult. Worthwhile as well, like so many challenges. On Tuesday mornings, they can feel especially tough.
So I pause, doing my best to embrace the gray areas, to be ok with the unresolved and iffy, to remember that nothing in our messy world is perfect. Within that pause is grace. And grace is beauty.
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