Let me hear of your loving-kindness in the morning, for I put my trust in you;
show me the road that I must walk, for I lift up my soul to you. Psalm 143:8
I wake up disoriented. Not that I don’t know where I am. Not because I am still caught in a dream. Rather, as I become present to the day, I am not sure I belong in it.
I search my mind for some inkling of the source of my uncertainty. As far as I know, the day ahead holds nothing to unsettle me. I slept well. I know the path ahead.
Perhaps my hesitation comes from knowing where I am. On the brink of Holy Week, in the too cold introduction of spring, hovering in that space where I yearn for journey’s end and so do not feel right in the day.
Yesterday I saw a daffodil bravely thrusting itself into the cold, not quite sunny day. Not yet in bloom, it’s hope of yellow brightness was evident nonetheless. “It’s afraid to come out into the cold,” I said to my friend.
And perhaps this is where I am as well. Yearning for the full warmth of spring, yearning for the final path through the wilderness, yearning for the strength to make the decisive push and to burst into life with hope and joy.
copyright © Anne E. Kitch 2013
