Days Bound By Natural Piety

Mood: cheerful and energetic…

Weather: cold and hard, bruised clouds weep darkly…

Reading: The Woman in the Wilderness by Jonathan D. Scott

Listening To: Amen Omen, by Ben Harper

A blazing fire of a Sunrise surrenders to the encroaching darkness of a wet overcast morning.

Bleary-eyed and tired from a night of restless fitful sleep, I arose slowly… going through my morning routine with lugubrious sighs and yawns.

As I stepped out my front door, the first hesitant trickling of the rain descended. “Typical.” I said to myself, pulling my coat tighter and burying my chin into my scarve.

The days vary in cloud cover and precipitation, but there is one constant: cold. A fierce aching bone-chilling cold that makes your eyes water and your lungs burn… and something about being so cold in the early pre-Dawn hours makes it all the more miserable.

The first touch of Spring is still no less than two months away, as the locals assure me that March “whiteouts” are more common than not.

I long for the first turning of the earth, planting and preparing for the growing season. The feel and smell of the soil. Warm days along the sandy beach. The dry feel of the Docks under bare feet. Ah, but I digress…

My rusticated carriage shudders groaning up and down the hills towards Downtown; over one bridge and `cross town. I suddenly catch some vague glow of silver-pink out of my peripheral vision. I round a bend, and then I see it…

Arching wide over the woods and waters, a vast rainbow stretches luminous against the low clouds. Time slows down, and I remember promises of old.

Suddenly, the miracle that is a single day fills my mind. I am no longer weak and weary, but full of strength in body and heart.

I feel as I am given a sign, a reminder… not merely of some ancient cataclysm, but of the promises bound within each minute and hour.

Now I have arrived to the task He has set before me, those whom He has entrusted into my care.

Wonders never cease.

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