Summer seems to be almost done. The morning started grey and wet.
Unpromising and chilly.
The soul remembered how when she was a very little child she had sympathised with the grey sea. The blue sea was a happy sea. The green sea, when the waves thereof tossed themselves and roared, was a triumphant sea. But the grey sea looked anxious. So the soul was sorry for the grey sea. Grey weather she abhorred. Something of this feeling ŵas with her still. Grey weather was not among the things for which she gave thanks. Then God her Father said to her:
All weathers nourish souls.
This I find to be true. I need the rain as well as sunshine, the cold as well as warm, rough seas as much as calm; how else shall I grow? How else shall I become the friend that others need when life is grey. And, what kind of adventures shall I have, what courage shall I ever find if the sea is always placid, always calm?
The ripening blackberries, soon to become a feast for birds and field mice, they also need rain as well as sunshine.
I am no different. I need to experience all the seasons and weathers of God’s good grace to be the soul He created me to be.