Chasing the Sun

After months of waiting, we finally got our first "proper snow" of the season last Thursday. While I'm no fan of driving on slushy roads and having to take care not to slip in parking lots and sidewalks, I still believe that if the weather is going to dip below a certain temperature, it should definitely be snowing.

There's something magical about delicate flakes falling from the sky. I've never been one to say that I find God in nature, but this winter feels different. We saw our first snow accumulations a few weeks ago (even before this "proper snow.") It was a Saturday morning, and I was leaving daily Mass when I looked outside and saw the snow gently falling into a soft blanket on the ground. I was glad I was prepared with boots and a heavy jacket as I made my way back to my car. I checked the forecast. Less than an inch with the snow stopping within a couple of hours. I sighed a sigh of relief because of an auction I had committed to attending later that evening. I was excited about it for weeks but not interested in driving in snow in the dark.

On my way home, I stopped by the grocery store to pick up a few things and gas up. As I turned onto the road going towards home, I noticed the sun was casting ribbons of pink, orange, and yellow across the sky. It was beautiful. I lost them behind some buildings but figured I could follow them towards the river. But as I continued to drive, the colors faded. When I got to the river, where I've seen some of the most beautiful sunrises, I was surrounded only by gray skies and slushy snow. Nonetheless, I got out of my car and walked around, hoping that maybe just around the path I'd see at least a glimpse of color. But there was nothing. What a disappointment.

As I returned to the driver's seat, I saw a woman get out of her car. She waved at me, and I realized it was a friend of mine, one who was also scheduled to attend the same auction later that evening.

"What are you up to this morning?" I asked her after a brief hug.

"Oh, I'm scheduled for a race in a couple of weeks...so I'm here to do a practice run."

My eyes must have been the size of saucers.

"Wow...that's dedication!"

"I can't believe it's snowing..."

I nodded, "I hope it doesn't affect the attendance at the auction tonight."

"Me too. But the Lord provides."

The Lord provides.

Could there have been a better thing for me to hear in that moment?

We hear it all the time, especially when we're in times of need, when we're lacking, when we're waiting or discerning. We call out to God in our prayer, trusting that He knows what He's doing and that He knows best. But perhaps it's also good for us to hear it when what we need is faith, when we are in need of trust, and when God feels distant.

I got back into my car that day and the first thing that came into my mind was, "I'm chasing the sun." Of course this doesn't make sense because what's the point in chasing something that you can't catch? Catch the sun and you'll be blinded...and burned. But that doesn't mean it isn't captivating, that it doesn't draw you in. My actions that day are proof of that.

This brings me to the Spiritual Canticle from St. John of the Cross:

"Where have you hidden,

Beloved, and left me moaning?You fled like a stag

after wounding me;

I went out calling you, but you were gone"

Stanza 1

"Why, since you wounded

this heart, don't you heal it?

And why, since you stole it from me,

do you leave it so,

and fail to carry off what you have stolen?"

Stanza 9

Who hasn't had a taste of something incredible only for it to disappear into thin air or be yanked away right when you thought it would be yours for the keeping? Or who, having experienced that thing, realizes that it stings you to the point that you feel you can't survive another moment without it? This is the spiritual life. God seems so close, and you experience consolation and then the next minute, everything goes dark and you're left wanting again...and all you want is Him. Even the briefest peek of the peach-colored sky is enough to make continue taking one step at a time in the darkness in hope that you'll see it again.

I have to remind myself of this when I'm caught in the darkness, uncertain where to go or where the next glimpse of beauty may be. When I feel like chasing the sun is completely futile, I want to remember what my friend said, "The Lord provides."

It's true. He does.

And in case you're wondering, I made it to the auction and had a wonderful time.