“Not to engage in the pursuit of ideas is to live like ants instead of like men.”
Do you ever get down in the dumps?
Occasionally, I get lost down there, wandering between mountains of my own kind of dark. It feels like being an ant, lumbering over clumps of earth that are small to other people but monumental to me. Sometimes there isn’t earth at all—just the significant size difference between me and the rest of the world.
Lately, I’ve squirmed beneath both earth and smallness. My legs scrabble over pebble and shale and the walls are stacked so high around me that it feels like perpetual night. I find myself wandering in looping tunnels. I keep digging though, stopping now and then to ask myself if I am just getting in deeper or pulling free of the mire.
Yesterday, I broke ground.
While waiting to pick my kids up from school, I looked up. Mounds of dingy clouds mottled the sky but for one shining moment, a patch of blue surfaced. It felt like God peeled back the sky just for me. It reminded me that all storms pass, even the really long ones. Within seconds, the clouds won out and draped back over the blue.
That small blue space carried me through the rest of the day. It makes me wonder, what if I hadn’t looked up? What if I kept my head down and missed that slice of grace? Would God have offered another one? While I suspect He would, I’m still glad I didn’t miss it.
Today, the sky is more blue than gray. Today the sun is abundant and joyous—available to see no matter where I look. But I think yesterday’s glimpse is a pearl more precious than any glittering diamond.
Muted, soft, and hard-won.
Until next time,
P.S. How do you get out of the dumps?