On this rather dreary day, when it is not only wet, but cold and slushy, when there is death but not dying, when there is a longing for home, when there is anxious and fear of the unknown, when there is far more than a bit of damp...
I am not smiling.
Opposites attract... I suppose.
No excuses, missy.
But there is a fellow across the café, an elderly and weathered man. He smiles, faintly. And I like it. Content with his coffee and paper.
And here I am unsmiling with a coffee and computer and phone and chocolate and Dickens...
Discontent.
To smile right now is humble, is grateful, and is content. To smile when it's raining is trust. The storms will pass, the storm is for good, and our Father in Heaven will see to that.
And don't forget... rain makes things grow...
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