The air has officially changed.
I’ve been waking up each morning to soft golden light coming through the windows in my house rather than the dark threats of rain.
I’ve been throwing myself into the beauty of the blossoming world at every single opportunity I get, and it seems more often than not these days my camera strap is a happy weight around my neck.
I want to capture what I’m seeing. I want to capture what I’m finally feeling.
I’m starting to breathe again.
I was driving down the highway at sunset this past week, drinking in the warm light that fell between the pine trees and danced around my car when something caught my eye.
A masculine arm slid out the open driver’s side window of the truck in front of me. It hovered there for a moment before it’s owner suddenly cupped his hand against the wind and let it take flight, riding the waves of air up and down.
I watched, oddly transfixed.
His hand rose and fell on the wind current, graceful, free, happy.
These past few months have been like a gentle current leading me to the shore after months of drifting in the deep, and all I want to do is lean into it and pray that it doesn’t leave, that it doesn’t change. That I’m strong enough this time.
When moments of happiness come, they hit me harder this time around. I capture them like snapshots, appreciating them with an intensity that often grasps my throat and steals my words.
The momentum that’s propelling me to the dry land is a soft wind from the Father above, and I let it take me. I’m drawing from the reservoirs of strength that I feel raining down like a gift with each new day.
These moments glow.
His heart is healing mine.
I’ve been weaving these moments together like a tapestry and covering myself with it; a shield against the cold.
With the Father’s help, I’m creating new memories to stack on top of the dark ones that have been stuck on the playlist in my mind…new moments to fill my soul.
I take these moments out and fly them like kites.
These are moments, only moments…but the current took me to them, washed me in them, soaked me in them. I can feel them coursing through my veins, seeping into the crevices of my heart.
There will always be skeletons in my closet. Monsters under my bed. Chapters I wish I could leave out of the story of my life. …But it is my story.
The Father reached down and held the hand that held my pen and turned it into our story, and we began the next chapter together.
I watched that man’s hand as it soared on the 55mph wind wave outside of his car window, and the urge to join him became too strong.
I turned the AC off and cranked the window down, feeling my hair whip across my cheek in the sudden cool blast. I slid my arm out the opening and gave the wind my hand.
I breathed in the smell of pine and wood smoke. I felt the healing waves wash over me.
I let the current take me.
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