Face to the Sun

Well over a year ago I began a slow spiral into complete exhaustion. In July of this year, I finally sought help from a doctor. Tests revealed that I had good reason to be in a state of total and utter fatigue. With medicine and rest, nutrition and vitamins, I've begun a gradual ascent into quasi-normalcy. We don't know how long it may take but I now have more good days than gutter days. 

No small miracle.

In this season of much to do, I squint my eyes and wish for every day to be a good one. This week began with a hearty to-do list and I hoped with all my might that the energy would man up and match the list. Yesterday, it did not. 

Despite an early-morning run, coffee, and a quiet house, no amount of willpower or wishing would make this body go. I yawned. I sat. I read. I stared out the window. I drank coffee. I tried to just go. I yawned some more. I prayed for strength. Nada. 

Discouraged and drained {though I had done nothing} I took the dog outside and sat in the sun. This mild, southeastern climate is my best friend right now. On a December noonday, I sat in my husband's Nike sweatshirt from college, closed my eyes, and let the warmth of the sun beat down on my face. I smiled. I breathed slow and long and deep. I prayed a little. I nearly fell asleep sitting upright in a patio chair.  

I've been reading Sarah Young's Jesus Calling devotional for a couple of years now. She talks a lot about the warmth and light and healing of Jesus' presence. Over time, I've begun to associate warm, radiant light with Jesus, particularly on winter days when the sun is such an unexpected and welcome gift.  

And so yesterday, in the midst of nothing to give, I simply lifted my tired face to sky and received the healing, comforting, love-lit warmth of Jesus while sitting in my driveway.  

Times like these have become a sort of communion, a means of grace to keep me going through the difficult days. In moments of stillness and clarity, I see the beauty in my neediness. For there are certain gifts, like Jesus in the noonday sun, that I would never have stopped to receive if the day had been the energy-filled, productive, Type-A day I so desired.

Today, we're unwrapping the gifts of the everyday over at Emily's {Chatting at the Sky.} And we'll be doing it each Tuesday of December. 

What can you unwrap? 

{from Emily} Anything that causes you to pause and celebrate the moment. Not what will be or what is to come, but what is real and true this day: the messy, the lovely, and the unexpected. Share a photo, a story, or anything that offers a glimpse into your own journey of discovering the gifts in the midst of the ordinary.

Join us?