Pondering today about the seasons that existed before the world shut down in 2020. There was a predictable pattern to the days. There were routines. There was a warm familiarity to life. The pattern and sequence has be replaced with disruption and confusion.

The new rhythm causes me to shudder and brace — preparing for the expected unknown to intersect my day. And it does. Another diagnosis. Another loss. Another broken marriage. Another bout of dissention. Agitation moves creeps in and sends friendliness to a place of isolation.

Then I manuever to a place where I can quiet the noise. I take a long deep breath in. I feel the warmth of the sun on my skin and the majesty of the mountain in the background. Well known words blanket my weary soul. I exhale anxiety and confess the battle ensuing with defeat.

I succumb to physical rest. The dawn breaks. The air is fresh. The morning is radiant. My being is restored and my reserves are present. Optimism goes before me. Joy has joined me on the journey. I feel equipped to overcome, to endure, to anchor in stability.

Surprises have become acquaintances. My balance steadies. I start to embrace the erradic rhythm of my days. The new normal has taken up residency. I acknowledge — hoping to gain appreciation in the days ahead. For now, I extend graciousness.