When it is humid, the air is heavy. It’s unpleasant to spend any time outside in the oppressive warmth of a late spring/early summer day.
What would otherwise be an enjoyable morning or evening walk just feels like too much effort, and on return, the moments after the walk are sticky as the body readjusts to indoor atmosphere.
Outdoor activity like working in the yard just isn’t worth it to this entitled 50+ year old body.
But when the humidity has moved on to the south and east with the cool front, there’s almost nothing that makes this body want to stay inside. The sun is brighter, the sky is blue-er, the flowers seem to be flower-y, my hair has bounce, and all is right with the world.
It’s kind of the same with my soul.
When my inner is humid, there is heaviness on my shoulders and my mind is weighed down with oppressive worry or stress. I avoid conversation. I avoid gratitude. I just want to crouch in my corner and not deal with the yuck of the day. I want to search and research for an end to the “soul humidity,” looking for justification for my bitterness and my rightness, and see where God can strike down those who are causing me stress, those who cannot see the error of their ways. My quiet fingerpointing just adds to the humidity and weight, and that “log” I carry around prohibits me from getting close to those who might actually be a dry, cool breeze and sunshine to my soul.
My “poor, pity me-ness” and need to hang on to the ugly actually makes others scatter and avoid the Rhonda humidity that is awkward, oppressive, and uncomfortable.
But today is a low humidity moment. Both actual and inner.
Today, I am grateful for a very pleasant weekend with friends.
I am grateful for the gift of entertaining new possibilities and a husband who encourages.
I am grateful for interesting discussion about agreeing to disagree, about not knowing the answers, about loving God, loving people, and that is all.
I am grateful for a husband who wants to live and doesn’t put things off, at least not when it comes to living. He puts off the finishing, and I am okay with that – especially when it comes to living.
I am grateful for leftover sandwiches.
I am grateful for a really great kid who makes Sam so very happy. “I wish I could adopt him, Rhonda.”
I am grateful for Rachel Held Evans and her book, “Inspired.” I love a book that stirs and teaches and…inspires.
I am grateful for the neighbor’s boxer mix who ALMOST decided I was okay – our relationship is developing.
I am grateful for a beautiful yard.
I am grateful, all over again, for Psalm 121.
And I am grateful for an old beater that Sam thought would be perfect. Yes, I think it will be perfect.
On a low humidity day, this old beater will enhance the bounce in my hair and put a grateful smile on my face.