courage in cotton

I woke up in a funk today. It's not one of those funks that makes a person mean, and makes your face frown, and makes you want to growl through your day... it's just one of those soft hazes that I sometimes wake up wrapped inside, that leave me feeling very out of place in this world, the minute I wake into it. It's not a bad thing, for the sole reason that it makes me wake up wanting to draw close to God... to draw close to that clarity of purpose, that strengthening of passion that comes when i seek to hear His heartbeat. Coffee helps, too - I won't lie. And great music by Hillsong, that encourages hope to wrestle up through the funky haze and try again (certainly not my best literary phase, but I'm leaving it).

This is not a solitary thing that I alone experience, I"m sure of that... which is the only reason why I'm writing about it. I know I'm not the only one who sometimes wakes up dealing with big questions, dreams, prayers, and scars - before even getting out of bed to reach the shower. So. I write.

In addition to good coffee and good music, here are some other things that help the haze to dissipate for me today. Though they are small... they are bits and fragments of beauty and promise, scattered across this day - just because He knows me, and understands my humanity - its joys, its silliness, its weaknesses, its need for rest. These fragments help the haze to dissipate:

Today's forecast includes rain.

I finally found a nail polish that doesn't chip.

This weekend, an annual tradition will continue, with my best friends...

5 more days.

My face is having one of its "I don't really need makeup" days...

I begin to feel invincible.

I walked outside this morning, and wanted a jacket.

I went back inside and got a cute one that made me very excited.

Courage, now found in cotton and poly-blend threads. Amazing.

I saw my mom when I was at Starbucks.

It made me feel like we were back in Seattle.

A drive to work, with the windows down and a crazy violin solo,

resonating with the way he looks in gray.

The wind, messing up everything external,

but calming most of everything internal.

Taking one more long, slow drink of my coffee...

thanking God for small pieces of anchoring beauty -

And walking into work, to face this hazeless day.