If John had his way, which he often does, the drapes in our bedroom would always be closed. If I had my druthers, which I do on occasion, they would be open. I like to have the light come streaming in. I get up early, even now that the era of chicken keeping is passed. John is a night owl and welcomes a chance to sleep past dawn. Not an insurmountable difference, but rather one we find ways to navigate.
Still whether or not I am a witness to the fact that the sun is up, she is. Rain or shine, she climbs above the horizon to rule the day, having relinquished her reign but temporarily to the moon.
There are times when things we care about go away. Our partner may travel on business. An elderly parent may pass on. Our health might take a dip into disease leaving us less able to, well rise and shine. Work might threaten to overtake our private life.
The days following the flu, or hurting my back are usually a time of increased gratitude. Having the strength to power through my day is elevated from what is expected, to what is given. Which is an avenue for joy.
A fifty eight degree day brings more pleasure after a week of bitter winds. Snow drops in March can engender deeper delight than they might in August.
When John came back from Africa the first time, I was so awash with gratitude to have him home I gave him a free pass. For three weeks, he could do no wrong. He loved it. Asked for an extension.
Having struggled with single parenting for most of a month I had become more cognizant of the blessing of partnership. What had been on the far side of my horizon came to the fore. Yet the bounty never really disappeared. It was me who had forgotten to notice.
The question is, am I blessed only when I observe it? Put another way, does the sun shine even when the curtains are closed?
