This little strip of 63rd street is one my favorite stretches of road. Perhaps it’s because I drive it so often. Every day, to and from work, 7 years commuting and learning its divots.
So much of my life is pooled together in the same area and this road weaves through it, providing familiarity in the multiple facets of my life.
Today, I drove it home from volunteering. I met new people this morning, working with them in a warehouse. In the middle of exhaustion, I was quiet. I walked away feeling as though I had not made a very good impression.
Would they whisper about me when I was gone? I could imagine them saying that they didn’t like me, that I was weird, quiet, maybe even kind of stuck up.
My mind rattles, tires passing over well-worn asphalt. Clouds hover in the sky, hanging like a delicate netting of lace over the sun. Its haze softens its glow.
I ponder this. I think briefly that maybe the sun felt shy today, maybe a little tired, and how the clouds conceived an idea to stretch like cover to protect it.
I smile at that. I like the idea of the clouds protecting the sun as it feels a little less friendly today.
I stop at the stop sign, turn toward home, and the sun is a little more clear, clouds wispy.
I keep thinking about the sun being shy.
Then a thought:
And is she any less beautiful?
Is she any less bright?
Despite the clouds, the daylight still pours its love to the earth knowing we all need it. Shy as she is, she cannot deny the purpose for which she is made.
I smile even larger. Did I make a good impression this morning? Who knows. Was I a little grumpier, a little more shy than usual? Possibly.
But was I any less beautiful?
Any less bright?
Any maybe those cloud covers – sun and soul – are necessary.
Maybe Jesus knows I’m tired, too, and he is conceiving a plan to run like covering over me.
And it truly is not any less bright. Or any less beautiful.