This morning at our church an old gentleman shuffled over to me with an air of great concern and put his arms slowly around me.
It was as if he had been cupping sunlight in his hands, saving it especially for me, to pour it gently over me so I could bathe in its warmth. In that brief moment, faith sprung up, lush and green from some tiny seed within the crying caverns of my soul. My heart knows when someone tremendously loves me.
The moment was too fleeting and I've already drifted back into melancholy again. The old gentleman and his wife are going away to warmer climates and won't return until April. I dream of going with them. I like warmer climates.