waiting for the invisible

I closed my eyes against the stores and homes flashing past my window, head tipped tired against the headrest. A day of morning moms' group, cookie-baking, and transforming a 30-years outbuilding storage space into a play space left me feeling less than satisfied, and despite having time for rest, weary.

We were aimed for a study with friends, and early. We drove past our destination. I entertained a longing to nurse a coffee at the Waffle House with my Farmer all evening instead.

As we rounded a bend in the road, I opened my eyes, and the sky filled the windshield and my heart: weightless banks of clouds lined the horizon, light-filled columns obscuring the beyond. The sun, invisible, was setting. The clouds that stood between us were backlit with gold, reflecting the glory that they hid.

It looked like hope to me.

As if an insufficient reminder of His presence, the next morning repeated hope: the swallowtail, hung waiting 14 days in chrysalis, silent & still, changing unseen, had emerged during the night. It clung damp, still patient with newness, to dried stems, waiting again till its wings hardened for flight.

But twice was not enough.  (my Maker revels in refrain.)

All today day it rained, dark sky and heavy air. All day the lights were on inside. But just before the sun went down, He cleared away the rain to spread the sky with gold. The stormy day ended bright, wet leaves still dripping against a glowing sky.

Who knows what weather tomorrow will bring. It may rain again all day. But this I know: the sun is there, no matter how thick the clouds cluster. The rain will stop, no matter how long it falls. And in the end, no matter how silent the still green sack, the butterfly will emerge.