a glimpse through the clouds

The other night, as I was driving home with a car full of screaming kids, I looked up. Up to the southern mountains that stand as sentinels around our "happy valley." Up and beyond to where my heart tells me my Heavenly Father watches and is mindful of me and my small struggles.

It is January in Utah. By far, not my favorite month. January is quite often the time between the beautiful white Christmas snows of December and the later season snows of February and March. It's too cold for words - too cold for pretty much anything - and with no precipitation, the unthinkable happens.

The haze settles in.

For those of you who have not experienced haze, I'll do my best to explain. Our valley is blanketed with a dirty blanket-like film the lingers at the base of the mountains. You look at the haze - because you can see it - and you know you're breathing that stuff in. That in addition to the freezing cold air burning your lungs, there is also the haze.

On top of this, on this particular January day, the sky was overcast and cloudy - thinking about snowing, but all the time knowing it wasn't going to. It was gray. It was gloomy. It was downright depressing.

Did I mention I was in a car filled with screaming children?

But then, as I looked up at those mountains, I noticed the clouds were breaking up just a bit. And like frozen chunks breaking free from the solidly frozen-over lake, river, or stream, there were pieces of clear sky. Glimpses of what lay beyond the solid, gray gloom below. And the sun was setting. So those pieces of clear sky were illuminated with the myriad strains of colors that exist between orange and pink, reflecting their colors on the white-capped mountain peaks.

Here, I thought, is God.

So often we find ourselves in the personal haze of life. We know it's bad. We can feel it. We can see it. But our spirits are numb, are minds and souls are frozen and polluted with what is (and sometimes what isn't) happening around us. Sometimes we're doing it to ourselves. Then, as if that weren't enough, we find ourselves surrounded by the solid, gray gloom of community, country, and global crises - situations where children go hungry, innocent lives are lost, natural disasters claim entire communities.

But, if we are looking, we can catch a glimpse of God through the clouds. He is there, beyond all that we can see and feel around us. His sky is clear and painted with the dazzling, sun-streaked colors of a desert sunset. He sees us from that vantage point, the light of his glory shining through the clouds and the haze right upon us.

He calls for us to follow Him, and while we cannot walk through that parting of the clouds, we can walk His path here in the haze below, mindful of the warmth and light that shines above - even when we cannot feel it or see it.

I recently encountered a word in the scriptures that I adore.

Dayspring.

Dayspring is the dawn. It is a title often ascribed to the Savior. As such, I think it is even more than just one simple dawn. Just like a spring of water will always bring forth fresh, clear water - even when rivers and streams run dry, a dayspring always brings the light of a new day - light that fully warms and illuminates everything in its path - rebuking the darkness as it goes.

So, as January progresses, one slow, gray day at a time - look for the glimpses, and know that as a child of God, you carry a piece of that dayspring with you always.

Pondering,
Meredith