joie de vivre

How the brave rays of the sun piercing through a cloud break in February feel so much brighter than the flood of it in August.

The way a soft breeze and a hint of blue sky after weeks of clouded northwest winter compel you to breathe deeper.

How the fresh doxology from a tiny brown wren, unseen beneath a sword fern, bursts out across the side of a silent mountain and causes hikers to stop in their boots.

I’ve realized lately that God’s provision shines out clearer in scarcity. When one can arrive at peace with that scarcity—truly realizing we deserve and are owed nothing, yet seeing what we have been given—one can be surprisingly content, thankful even.

The thing we don’t contend with in all of this humbling is that goodness of God can’t leave us alone. It is overwhelming and so specific at the same time.

“Iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another.”