Altogether lovely on a not-so lovely day

In dreamy half-sleep, I hear crows caw, the floorboards creak, the drip of rain. My heart sinks. Another day of wet and cold, another day trapped in the house again.

Living in coram Deo is hard on days like these, when I'd rather be on a beach somewhere hot or living a life free of responsibility and obligation. Days like these make it easier to spit out what's always on the edge of my tongue: What's in it for me? Easier, on miserable days, to forget the bigger picture of life, and to hold tightly to my very tiny ideas of what is worthwhile.

Yet, there will always be rainy days like this, chore-filled, transit-sitting, should-I-go-outside-or-not liminal in-betweenness.

So, I get up, get dressed. I bother to put on makeup for no reason in particular. Then, when baby naps, I thumb open barely-used Spurgeon and read, "All earthly suns have their spots. The fair world itself has its wilderness. We cannot love the whole of the loveliest thing, but Christ Jesus is gold without alloy, light without darkness, glory without cloud. - 'Yea, he is altogether lovely.' "

I look up. Outside, the clouds linger. Chores remain. Hours still yet to pass. But within, a shining nimbus lifts the veil. Hope. Joy. A heart free to receive light and life.