Sunshine and Snowflakes

There's a secret and small part of me that began to breathe in Spain. It started to stretch and yawn to wake up from its slumber, but, for some strange reason it didn't quite shake sleep's hold.

It is not the forceful part of my heart, not the proud, not the pushy.

It is the delighting part, the part that dances, the part that plays. It is the part of me that sees delight and every snowflake and birdsong, the part of me that wakes anticipating the simple joys and small adventure of the unknown day.

And that part has been stifled-by practicality or circumstance, by lies or by categories -I'm not sure-but it has been missing for quite some time.

This is the part of me that dances in the rain and jumps in the car a moment's notice to find a field to stargaze. This is the part of me that whispers life to growing plants in the garden and laughs as pranks are well-played.

This part of me, she's full of mischief and play and the light and the peace of his goodness and faithfulness.

And I must learn to nurture her, to coax her from her resting place and into the moment, into the present, into the need for beauty realized here and now. And today, it starts with a fearless, honest cry and snowflakes falling on my upturned face.