The Grace of a Wet, Cold Day

There is something I've come to appreciate about drafty, damp weather. 

Take yesterday, a Monday in June. The sky was gray, the air was wet, the temperature was in the high forties. And while summer in New England makes no promises, you felt you were entitled to something a bit warmer than all this. 

I was working in a snug room with soft carpeting, butter-warm lighting, and a clear-paned door. From out of that door, I could see umbrellas caving and bending against the wind. I could see people tight and hunched against the rain. And here I was, swaddled up in this sweet, safe space. 

Looking out at the day, I had a moment of full-on gratitude for the wet and the cold. Because I could easily take my warmth, my comfort for granted without it. Or, at the least, my appreciation would have been muted.

On a sunlit day, the room was an extension of the weather. But on a rain-darkened day, the room was a stark contrast. 

And sometimes grace emerges to unsettle us, to remind us that good weather, good health, good anything is not a given.

It's not that we should live fearing anything good will be taken away. But, perhaps instead, live thankful for everything good that is here. 

So on a Monday in June, the weather brought rain and it brought wind, and it brought a bit of grace, too. 

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