Everyday when I come downstairs and settle in my rocking chair, the sun rises just to right of the window I look out of. Today I was up before the sunrise, so I dragged my rocker into the dining room to look out of a different window and view the sunrise head-on. I watched as it crept above the horizon over the ocean. When it finally appeared in all it’s morning glory, it blinded me and I could no longer sit by this window and had to drag my rocker back into the familyroom and settle once again in front of my old window, where I could comfortably enjoy the morning sun, just out of view.
Sometimes we choose to finally face something head-on and it’s too much for us. We must pull back and keep it just beside us, not quite hidden from view. As we go about our business we are able to take it in and contemplate small pieces of it one at a time. We eventually become more comfortable with it and are finally ready to take on the whole ball of wax and digest it. Here is where it becomes part of us; changes us. Something shifts inside and we are now enamored by the newness of our person settling within our heart and soul.
We are not cowards or weak because we can’t face something we know we must not resist head on. We are smart to pull back and move slowly. Smart to assimilate the changes within in small increments, giving them a chance to knit themselves into our being. A hard rain never benefits a garden. It rolls off before the plants can drink. It is the quiet, steady, gentle rain that feeds and affords growth. Live in such a way – quiet, gentle, and steady with the things we fear the most, and growth and change will take place effortlessly and almost painlessly.
And so, as another day goes by, I will go to the Red Sox game today and let the changes from a different window work in the background, and ….I have written.
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