Out in the country, in the little place my daughter and her hubby call home, the sky is big, very big.
I’m always looking to see the light, the play of color, the hue falling on the high grass or the crimson “sour” weed.
I go outside, the rain being done for now and the sun is setting.
The softest light I’ve known. I’m in love with the sky, can’t get enough of the view.
Yesterday morning, I received an apology from someone and I wasn’t quite sure of its need.
There’d been some tension in our exchange, an agitation in his voice, seemed some sort of struggle unrelated to the topic being volleyed across conference room table.
I’d decided early on that my go to all day was gonna be kindness, intentionally to go the way of accepting another without making their manner of speech, attitude or action about harming me, hampering me.
I must’ve carried that resolve into the meeting because when I’d have typically said “not dealing with you” and rejecting another person all together, I sensed something else and I said to self, “Be kind.”
Thought of that quote when I read his apology, not knowing what horrible thing was hidden in his typed asking forgiveness, I thought of “be kind…there’s a hard battle here you don’t know.” Something you can understand.
“He has showered his kindness on us, along with all wisdom and understanding.” Ephesians 1:8
I blogged my second piece as a contributor at Daughters of The Deep about being light wherever we go.
Light in a dark world that we sometimes get wrong I think, we sometimes feel as Christians we have to burst forth into every room and like a blinding presence that can’t be denied, we can’t and won’t be denied.
That’s not God’s expectation, I don’t believe.
Who ever thought of love or kindness or mercy as a spotlight piercing in and causing us to shield our eyes, our souls?
Moses even had to turn away and it was God who drew near him. Surely, we know our lights are a significantly different version, His Spirit in us, minuscule but, still mighty in its meaning and message.
Love, it’s the much softer light that we should bring, a subtle difference nudging others to know more of why.
Our light, a kinder light.
Mostly, kindness, just choosing kindness.
In this recent post, I wrote about the women who were with Jesus because they’d had their lives changed by His healing. I wrote about their hard sorrows before and their light infused afters.
I wrote of the beauty we see when we choose to see others through eyes changed, through a softer light, a light that doesn’t blind in its sudden sizing up of others.
A light that’s warm and welcoming in and in illuminating rightly my impression of others, not begging their notice or impression of me,
a kind of light, kinder.