At the end of forty days, Noah opened the window of the ark he had made… +Genesis 8

Washing the windows.

So I can see better.

Filthy.

                     they can get.

Grimy.

Cobwebby.

                               and sticky.

That film that lingers after a long Winter.

Stuck in the corners and glued to the pockets and edges.

Gets a little elusive sometimes… trying to get it all cleaned up glistening.

Getting the gunk out of the recesses.

Sometimes the looking out is hard.

Walking around, peering, like there’s got to be a clean spot to see straight through to the beauty out there.

Somewhere.

That’s what it’s like sometimes from where I am on this side of the glass, anyway.

Sometimes the view gets hard to see through the dirt I’ve got cloudy on my pane.

                                         :::::::::: my pain.

There are daffodils out there beyond it all.

The lilac that hasn’t bloomed yet?

It’s going to.

::::::: And the bleeding heart.

                   :::::::::::::::::: Growing.

The grass is growing and the leaves are spinning on the trees.

The morning was misty, but the sun broke through just in time.

Time to clean the windows

                                              :::: wash away the soot…

and squeak them sparkling clear.

                   :::: after all, it’s springing time.

Sometimes it just seems easier to stay on the inside, where it’s comfortable and familiar.

                                               :::::: but not good for me.

                  ::::::::::: but all will end up for my good.

                                                                  ::::oh, the rest in that.

But don’t those window- glasses get dirty, like you can’t take throwing up the sash one more time…

Because it’s hard and life is hard and choices are hard and the past: that’s just hard sometimes.

Things get a little dimmer with the dust.

and a little blurry with the dirt that’s stuck-fast and hard to wipe away.

And right before the window-wiping dries clear and gleaming, there’s that moment of the most fogging up.

When the cleansing-  soap is sprayed and for a second you can’t see out at all.

Sometimes the toughest.

And there is no choice.

Wash clean.

The windows.

Washed clean.

                                  :::::::::::::: glowing in the sun….

                                                                                     …. in the Son….

And the dirt is for my good.

And the dig-down-deep faith is for my good.

And the waiting for the windows to clear up is for my good.

And the patience is for my good.

And the timing is for my good.

And the cleaning?

Oh, for my good.

And the peering out to what is waiting for me?

heavenly.

And what is it all for?

Every-thing?

For

His glory.

Washed radiant.

Time to throw open the windows and breathe in the freshest air.

I will give thanks to Your name, O Lord, for it is good. +Psalm 54