The Mercy of the Sun

This morning, my world had a sorbet orange glow, spreading from the clouds over my apartment building to the construction site across the road.

It was the tender kiss of the sun, who had already risen out of the darkened hills to greet me.

But there, we embraced for a moment, for the few seconds before I got into my car and drove away.

This week, I felt empty.

I craved God and sometimes sought Him; I fell to impatience and sighing, and in my heart, I was dumb.

But the sun, the sun brings me its rise every morning, no matter what.

God still switches on the light, still displays glory, still calls me in.

I dreamt last night that I got away. I escaped the crowds and made it to the quiet place.

But once there, I could only spout out a few lines, and I finally gave up and ushered myself home, head hung low.

“Our weakness has opened Heaven to us, because it has brought the mercy of God down to us and won us His love. Our unhappiness is the seed of all our joy.” –Thomas Merton

The orange glow that greeted me this morning burned the image of Heaven onto my heart– my heart that is aching and longing for an end to so many broken things.

I’m remembering Uganda again. My heart gravitates back there every single year, right before spring comes, like she knows that there are some things I have forgotten or haven’t learned yet from our two months there, six years ago.

The sky I saw light up in Uganda was orange, too, and bright blue and charcoal gray, the essence of every color blushed into her cheeks. It glowed over the rushing Nile waters and over all the deep.

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There, Heaven called us close, just as the call beckons today.

All I can do is accept my weakness, surrender it, and bask in the rays of merciful love.

Amen, when I am empty.

Amen, when I am weak.

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