The blue of a day like this sits and hovers over me; my emotions intense, my conflicts stirring, my mind racing with solutions to make the blue disappear.
I would say today is a light blue, like humidity. No raincoat or umbrella can make humidity disappear. On a day like today, in moments, it’s hard to breathe and the humidity presses in, remains. Deep inhales only tighten the chest. The blue of today has a source, it always does.
The source, an army of magical forces coming together at the precise moment to paint the color, to wash it over everything. Like humidity, a balance of saturated moisture hangs so thick the air can no longer grasp or evaporate it. The blue sits, heavy, and then heavier.
Humidity is felt to the skin. I cannot hold an umbrella to cover and shield and protect because humidity surrounds like a fitted glove. It hits every pore, every patch of skin, exposed or not. It would not help to know of its arrival … still I’d be consumed and squeezed, unable to breathe deep. So the blue has to be felt, every part of me feels the tightness of blue.
There has to be room elsewhere for the heaviness; there must be a way to remove today’s blue.
And then…as the sun rises and intensifies, as the heat presses upward, space is created for the thick humidity to dissipate.
And, as beauty rises from the scorch of ashes, the heat will burn away blue. I have to remain, I have to let the blue settle, I have to endure the heat to have retraction of the saturation.
Some days are simply like this. Very little warning, no anticipation, a lack of readiness. Still, somehow, the blue days still surprise me. If I could see them coming, would I be prepared? If I knew the meaning or the purpose of the blue, could I better endure?
The blue will come — some deeper than others, some light and bearable. The blue matches the level of heaviness I feel. I believe that with healing, fewer days like this will rise, or perhaps the color will show lighter.
The blue of today sits and hovers over me, waiting.
You see, tomorrow and many days after will not be blue. They will rise bright yellow. The humidity will fade, my mind will reason and understand, my heart will heal … as it always does in the healing burn of the Son.
Kimberly (Kimmy) Hock, enjoys a vibrant relationship with the Lover of her soul as His love has unwrapped a whole new language to her. She is a wife of a Pastor and mother of 4 teenagers. Kimmy has just begun to find a voice in writing, and her passion of unfolding feelings and experiences in words. Life in ministry, healing of trauma, and cancer victory has given her unique perspectives and a colorful freedom to express her thoughts in word.