We no longer need to run from present time in search of the place where we think life is really happening.~Henri Nouwen

I have this nasty habit of creating expectations for my life. It's like hearing the door bell ring and the florist handing me a dozen white roses instead of red ones. "Doesn't my love know I wanted red ones, not white?" There's no way to exchange them. There's no way to send them back. I can either place them in a vase and pine for red roses or find the beauty in the white ones.

I've had this attitude since landing in a Pandemic. This is not what I anticipated. I was supposed to get red roses. I wasn't planning on having to adjust. 

It's better for me to adapt, to let go. I can't hang on to the expectation that life will go back to "normal." And yearning for a place where I think "life is really happening" is a fantasy. 

Just yesterday morning as I drove across the bridge to work, I became newly aware of how beautiful the city of Charleston is--this view I've been privileged to see so many days for over a decade. The boats lingered in the silvered waters like peaceful birds. The clouds were displayed in billowed waves, impaled with light. The sky streamed gold and crimson. I set my intention as I inhaled that scene to receive God's mercy, His peace, His faithfulness, remembering that His perfect love casts out fear. That COVID does not intimidate Him. That He can teach me to bury my nose in the fragrance of my white roses and enjoy their delicate snowy petals.