Blue day, new day

Bluest of blue

Bluest of blue

On Tuesday morning, I walked with purpose. My feet were light and my arms had an intentional rhythm. I was confident and I anticipated each thought, each prayer…what I call a mindful walk.

My steps were sturdy and my stride was assertive. My prayers were my thoughts and my supplications were substantial. I began with “Pride says” …and countered with “Humility says”.

My struggles were spilled from thoughts to prayers in a pattern; much like a pro and con list or a motivational talk. All my obstacles, doubts, fears, comparisons were confessed and transformed by humility. It all made sense.

REFRESHED, RENEWED, REPENTANT

By the time, I got back home, I was clear-headed, enthused, and ready to begin again.

 Thursday morning, I laced up my shoes and started off down the road…this time a foggy morning and a woeful mind.

My feet stomped strong and forceful. Two cars rounded the curve and I, annoyed by their nuisance, had to step into the tall grass. My left foot tilted to the side and I felt victimized, imagining the “what if” of falling on the side of the road, my twisted, red, pulsing ankle. I wanted to cry over just the thought of it. Yet,  I kept walking, looking for that flow, that dialogue, that peace.

I walked on, interrupted by bird chatter, erratic and hurried and geese making their way towards the water, squawking loudly.

I started a prayer, I started; but, faltered on generic words and empty thoughts. So, I walked towards the turn around spot and started thinking ahead to the demands of the day.

I kept my head forward;  kept walking, thinking and mentally bemoaning my life, my wishes it could work outs, my regrets and my comparisons.

I glanced towards a dog barking, looked down and saw a feather, a pristine feather bordered in black and edged in the bluest of blue. I reached down and picked it up, slipped it into my pocket…kept walking, tapping the side of my shorts…feeling for the feather. I walked differently then. I walked, reminded of grace, of presence, of the simplicity of beautiful, constant mercy.

Back home, I prayed…a simple prayer, a different prayer.  Feather tucked away in my journal, I prayed, Thank you Lord, for beauty in small things.. for special nods of your presence when my struggles suffocate my prayers.

Thank you, Lord that you are aware…that you tilted my head and changed my focus, that you reminded me of beauty.

The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save.  He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing. Zephaniah 3:17

Turning the curve, and walking across our front yard, a blue jay settles into the pine and sings its “all is well, begin again tune” and my day proceeds,  painted a clear blue hue.

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