Wednesday, September 29, 2010


Yesterday I emerged from my little cave at work feeling shaky from having a very tense discussion with a business partner that was only just south of open warfare. I was feeling pretty awful and expected the weather, which had been rainy and glum, to match my mood - I think they call that feeling the pathetic fallacy.

It turned out that the rain had lifted, and the sky was simply blooming with towering cumulonimbus clouds and sunset hues that ranged from blue to gold to copper red. It was a little like getting called to the assistant principal's office and in the midst of dreading the encounter finding out that you're parents are there to pick you up from school early. Boy, what a wonderful sight.

I climbed up onto the roof deck of the parking garage, which also fortunately happens to sit on the crest of a hill, and surveyed the miracle of those clouds and the light falling in great yellow golden shafts to strike the hills and the dells and the little lakes that I could see.

You won't hear me talking about my faith much in my writing - I consider it a private matter for most of us - but I'm pretty sure someone important was trying to get my attention.

"Don't sweat the small stuff," I thought to myself after a few deep breaths, "There are always clouds to fall back on."

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