I looked out the window today and couldn't see anything. The dark time is here. Time to drive with brights and drink hot drinks and get religious about slippers.

My kids danced today. We're tired and sick and overwhelmed by the mountains in front of us, but the little things still make them happy. And that is big. Every once in a while you have to put silly music on and sing along. Do a march around the room and shake it off. I think that they have a better understanding of heaven than I do. And of God. Something happens when you grow up. You grow out also. And it's hard to get back in.

Sometimes I try to talk myself into God. And heaven. I'm reading this book right now. It's called "Your Jesus is too Safe." And He is. I had turned Him into something equivalent to my favorite blanket. I love Him with the wrong kind of love. So while being with Him is like being home, it should also drive me to such gratefulness that the dark is good too. That's what I decided this morning. I find myself wearing my brightest clothes when it gets dreary outside. It helps me on the inside somehow. But what really makes a difference is remembering that I have His love everywhere I go. That I carry His mark and His grace. And that it is the light of His face that lasts forever. My green tights and pink skirt only go so far. He carries me the rest of the way.