In the dark of this morning’s dawning, I hold to these few minutes of quietness. Drizzle collects on the oak branches, seeps downward. Old leaves turn soft and the still green grass of December carries memory and promise. In these forming thoughts of this new day, I choose the way of faith, believing in the good that can come from each day. Sooner or later, some undesired event will make its way into the course of my life but I have seen God bring good from each of those. I have found, too, that it comes more quickly when I let go of the hurt and the senseless rehearsals of harm.

Dread and regret multiply the unpleasant of our lives; we end up enduring much more than happens.

Far better than begrudging the dampness to welcome the slow peaceful of the rain and pay particular attention to the way it patterns the bark of an oak formed before my parents were born.

H. Arnett
12/22/09